


Flying Colours

by TauraNorma



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action & Romance, Adventure & Romance, Angst and Romance, Drama & Romance, Duelling, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Grimmauld Place, London, Love, Lupin/Tonks - Freeform, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Remadora, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sirius Black & Nymphadora Tonks Friendship, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin Friendship, remus/tonks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 95,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TauraNorma/pseuds/TauraNorma
Summary: "It's funny" Said Tonks, pink curls grazing the scars on Remus' bare chest, as she peered into his face. "Last night I had the privilege of seeing you lose control and now I'm watching you try to reassemble yourself. Piece by piece" - The Ministry's most unconventional Auror meets the Order's most self-disciplined werewolf. RL/NT during OoTP. Rating will change to explicit for later chapters.





	1. Prologue: Auror Down

**Prologue: Auror Down**

 

_As soon as the curse struck her, there was an explosion of high, cackling laughter._

_“No more polluting my family tree, blood traitor brat!”_

_There was a tearing sensation deep inside her. Tendrils of dark magic were spreading from the point of impact and surging through her veins. With her legs flying out from beneath her, she was suspended in the air. Then there was a crack as her head hit the first of the stone stairs. Her body flopped from one to the other, gathering speed, and her vision became a spinning blur of colour: a scene of battle; a whirl of pink; a step rising to meet her; an archway with a flowing veil._

_Then her vision went. And all was pain._

_The next thing she knew was bright whiteness. Uniformed people were shouting, busying themselves around her. She was sliding down a corridor; unreadable signs passing above._

_The pain was getting worse and, as the curse tightened its grip on her insides, her understanding began to slip away. The mad laughter bounced around inside her head. An inescapable screech._

_“It will be a slow death - blood traitor scum!”_

_She was afraid. She was tired. The people surrounding her became more urgent; their frantic instructions rising into a terrible buzz._

_But then. She heard one individual voice rising out of the din. Warm. Urgent. Choked with sobs._

_“…you have to hold on, Tonks…please….”_

_The sound of the laughter was fading now. It was replaced by this single voice, calling her back to herself. She knew what this voice was: the kindest eyes meeting hers across a room; the deepest kiss on a rooftop as the sky exploded in colour; the warmest arms holding her as night turned into morning._

_“…please stay with me…”_

_The blackness was claiming her now but, as she descended, she didn’t lose the sensation of his touch on her hand. A true north in all the pain and confusion._

_Remus._


	2. Old Dogs

**Chapter 1: Old Dogs**

 

_1 Year Earlier_

 

A deep slash across the collarbone. A bleeding wrist. A broken fingertip. 

 

Remus Lupin breathed deeply and rhythmically as he checked his body over. Leaning heavily on the kitchen counter, he began to administer his usual spells and salves: putting his body back into order. It was barely an hour since dawn and the post-transformation pangs and spasms had not yet subsided. Before him was the ritual of objects he lined up for himself before every full moon: bandages, ointments and a magically preserved cup of piping hot tea. Once he was staunched and trussed, he raised the mug to his lips with unsteady hands.

 

But another wave of pain broke over him and Remus squeezed his eyes shut, his face settling into an anguished grimace. He set the mug down hard, sending drops of liquid splashing onto the wood. That ancient agony. Like a metal wire twisting inside his veins. His bones, so recently snapped, were attempting to recover now that the wolf had retreated for another month. Remus’ slim body curved around the mug; the steam furling upwards around his thick, light brown hair. The early rays of sunlight beamed through the window in front of him, illuminating the bright silver strands that ran through it. 

 

When the pain had subsided slightly, Remus opened his eyes once more and surveyed the familiar Yorkshire landscape from the window of his cottage. He lived in an isolated spot; bewitched with every repelling charm he knew. The moor was a muted green in the morning light, the heather not yet flowered, the landscape undulating. Every day the same. No life to be seen except the crows.

 

But. Remus blinked. There was something. He leant closer to the glass. A shape on the horizon. It crested the top of a hill and Remus’ breath left his lungs.  A huge black dog was approaching. It was almost close enough for Remus to see its pale, moon-like eyes. Remus’ own eyes prickled at the corners. For a moment, he was only able to stare. Then, as the dog came to a sudden halt, Remus leapt into action and, ignoring the pain in his muscles, went to his door and flung it open. With a wave of his wand, the security spells fell and the dog bounded forward, paws hammering the damp earth. 

 

As soon as he touched the threshold, Sirius was a man again and in less than an instant had wrapped Remus in a bruising, winding hug. Though his body flashed with pain and his head spun, Remus didn’t care. All he knew was the strong embrace of his oldest living friend. Sirius’ body was utterly transformed - a bony, scraggy imitation of the broad muscular young man he had once been - but he was Sirius nonetheless. It had been a year since they were reconciled; before that, twelve. Over Sirius’ shoulder, Remus could see a golden-feathered hippogriff gliding down through the clouds.

 

They broke apart and Sirius grinned at him. His face was so familiar and yet so altered. The characteristic Black family high cheekbones were still there, but they were now so pronounced that his face looked hollowed-in. The once clear skin was waxy, and the rugged stubble Sirius had been so proud of as a teenager was now replaced with a wiry, uneven black beard. But his eyes - dark and glinting - were the same.

 

“Rough night, mate?” Sirius asked. 

 

“Oh, the usual” Said Remus, croakily. “Tearing up the dance floor” 

 

Sirius gave a throaty chuckle before following Remus inside and throwing himself into a spindly chair at the kitchen table. Remus flicked his wand at the kettle and lowered himself into the opposite chair, his arms hugging his aching body. 

 

“Got anything stronger, Moony?” Said Sirius, as teabags began soaring into a pair of chipped mugs and a whistle started to rise from the kettle. 

 

Remus raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Well, I haven’t seen that face in a long time” Said Sirius.

 

“What face would that be?”

 

“The expression you make when you’re disapproving of something” Said Sirius, tipping his chair back. “The single eyebrow of disappointment. Enough to make us all behave ourselves again”

 

“I wish” Said Remus, with a dry laugh.

 

The mugs plonked themselves down in front of them. Remus closed his tired eyes but instead of blackness, memories overwhelmed his sight. Three young and laughing faces. Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

 

“Fucking hell” Said Sirius suddenly, causing Remus’ eyes to snap open. Sirius’ gaze was roving over the premature grey in his hair, the lines around his eyes, the new scars that had accumulated on his neck. 

 

“Not even thirty-six yet and we’re a right pair of old dogs aren’t we?”

 

“Speak for yourself” Said Remus, his own laughter surprising him out of the heaviness of memory. “Can’t you tell I’ve been living the glamorous bachelor life I was always destined for?”

 

Remus gestured around at the tiny cottage they sat in. From the rumpled bed in one corner, to the overflowing bookcases and stacks of empty creature cages that were gathering dust in another. The entire place was smaller than their old Gryffindor dorm. 

 

Sirius snorted as he surveyed it. 

 

“It’s pretty depressing, I won’t lie to you Moony. You should have seen the cave I lived in at Hogsmeade though. Just me, Buckbeak, some dead rats and a corner to piss in”

 

“Sounds perfect for you, Padfoot”

 

“Well” Said Sirius, his expression suddenly sharp. “It’s better than a cell” 

 

“I daresay it is” Remus whispered, after a pause.

 

_12 years in Azkaban._ The thought was crushing. In the year that had passed since their reunion in the Shrieking Shack, they had barely spoken beyond the exchange of short and heavily coded letters. Everything they hadn’t yet discussed weighed on Remus and he felt that they must, that they _needed_ , to talk about it. But summoning the right words felt impossible. 

 

“Sirius. I….” Remus started.

 

“Yeah” Sirius said, cutting him off and shifting in his seat. “I know, mate”

 

Remus ran his hands through his hair. Foreboding had now settled in his stomach. After the full moon, it took time for his mind to un-fog but it was gradually starting to clear now. The anxieties of the past year were hurtling back. With a jolt he remembered: the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. It had been last night. Why had Sirius come here?

 

“Sirius” He said in a low voice. “What’s happened?”

 

Sirius stared back at him for a beat, before saying: “Voldemort is back to full strength”

 

Even though Remus had always believed it inevitable - and the past year had brought an ever-increasing string of clues and suspicious events - it was a heavy blow. A bottle of fire whisky zoomed out of his cupboard and came to a standstill on the table between them. 

 

“How?” Though Remus’ voice was calm, his heart pounded uncomfortably in his weary chest. He had a horrible feeling that he already knew. 

 

Sirius took a furious swig from the bottle before beginning the story. 

 

By the time he had finished, Remus’ knuckles were white as he gripped the table. He had taught Cedric Diggory. Quick to smile and even quicker to come to the aid of any struggling classmates; he was a talented, generous boy and Remus had liked him. He and Sirius looked at each other and Remus knew that they were each remembering a moment just one year ago when they stood shoulder to shoulder:

 

_“Shall we kill him together?”_

_“Yes, I think so”_

 

“How’s Harry?” Remus asked, trying to quash the memory and forcing his breath to be even. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of Lily and James’ son. “He must have suffered so much…”

 

Sirius nodded, his jaw clenched. “He’s strong. He’s so like James and Lily but….” Sirius took another swig of firewhisky and shook his head bitterly. “I made a vow to them when he was just a baby that I would protect him. But Voldemort got a hold of him last night and _I wasn’t fucking there_. AGAIN” 

 

Sirius slammed his fist onto the table, his hair swinging. 

 

“If Voldemort is back, then so is the Order of the Phoenix. We will fight for Harry” Said Remus ardently, holding Sirius’ gaze. 

 

Sirius matched Remus’ burning look and nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Moony”

 

Remus felt his throat tightening. 

 

“And you, Padfoot” He replied, softly. He took a burning gulp of firewhisky, but immediately regretted the nauseous dizziness it brought him. 

 

“So who’s with us? Dumbledore wants us to assemble the old crowd” Said Sirius, sitting up in his seat. 

 

“Well….the members of the original Order who are still alive. So not many. Mad Eye - once he’s recovered - Sturgis, Hagrid, Minerva, Diggle….And I suppose we’ll have Snape. As spy”

 

“Snivellus? On our side?” Said Sirius. “Fuck that”

 

Remus frowned. The old nickname was jarring to him.

 

“Dumbledore trusts him”

 

Sirius ignored this.

 

“Fudge might be refusing to accept the truth, but the whole ministry isn’t stupid” He said, changing the subject. “They won’t all toe the line and those that don’t will want to take action. I think we might be able to recruit some Aurors”

 

“They’ll get a shock when they turn up to Headquarters and come face to face with the man they’ve been hunting for two years - notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black” Said Remus, with a slight smile.

 

“I can’t wait to see their faces” Sirius grinned back.

 

“Speaking of Headquarters, we’ll need to find somewhere suitable”

 

“I’ve already sorted it, Moony. My venomous hag of a mother died while I was in Azkaban. I’m the sole heir of my beloved ancestral home”

 

Remus stared. 

 

“Grimmauld Place?” The name sounded strange in his mouth. He hadn’t heard it in so many years. “The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is going to be at…Grimmauld Place?”

 

“A final two fingers up to my family and their pureblood mania” Said Sirius.

 

“Won’t it be crawling with dark magic?”

 

“Nothing a few weeks of exorcism won’t fix” Sirius waved his hand. “Probably. The important thing is that the protections on that place are ancient. And powerful. Which means the Ministry won’t be able to get their hands on me”

 

“Well…that sounds ideal but...you _despise_ that place” 

 

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Of course I do. But right now offering the house is the only useful thing Dumbledore is letting me do” An edge had crept into his tone. “My second incarceration won’t last long though. The Order needs as many good fighters as it can get” Sirius brightened suddenly. “Besides, it won’t be so bad: I’ll have a decent housemate at least”

 

“Buckbeak does seem like excellent company” Over Sirius’ shoulder, out of the window, Remus could see Buckbeak eagerly disembowelling a rabbit.

 

Sirius smiled. “I was talking about you, Moony”

 

Remus blinked.

 

“You’re moving in!” Sirius announced. “Dumbledore agrees. It makes sense to have you at headquarters - you can keep me sane. And we can use this old place as an emergency apparition station. What do you say?”

 

“Of course” An incredulous smile spread over Remus’ face. It was hard to believe that the endless empty evenings spent alone in his cottage would be coming to an end. He let out a deep breath. “Here we go again”

 

“For you maybe, Moony” Said Sirius, his eyes shining from between his hair. He suddenly, alarmingly, looked like the famous image of himself on the front of the Daily Prophet. “For me, the war never ended. Azkaban was just an intermission” 

 

Remus nodded slowly and didn’t break eye contact, though Sirius’ teeth were bared and his expression was alight with emotion. The thirteen years since Lily and James’ funeral, and everything that had filled them, suddenly seemed like a dream: his years abroad in self-imposed exile; the death of his mother; becoming a Hogwarts professor…It had all led back to the same place. War.

 

“Right. Enough talk” Said Sirius suddenly. “You look terrible. You need to sleep and get your strength back. I still don’t have a wand so we’ll have to fly to London”

 

Remus realized then just how heavy his limbs were. He was exhausted. 

 

“Come on” Said Sirius, getting to his feet and moving round the table to help Remus up.

 

Remus walked gingerly to the bed in the corner of his room, with one arm on Sirius’ shoulder for support. Sirius pulled back the covers for him and Remus let himself sink into the cool embrace of the sheets. 

 

“Sleep, old friend” 

 

Remus felt a hand lightly touch his hair. 

 

“You should rest too” Remus replied in a hoarse whisper. “You must have been travelling through the night”

 

“I’m alright. I don’t sleep much anymore” Sirius voice sounded further away now. “I’m going to take myself for a walk. I’ll be back in a few hours”

 

“Be careful” 

 

But Sirius was already gone. The great black dog was bounding across the moors again; stretching its powerful legs. The wide sky above opened up as the early morning mist began to clear. The last thing Remus saw before sleep took him was the view through the window of the great black dog running and bouncing across the heather in the distance. Free. For a morning.


	3. Tenacity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ve chosen to make Tonks two years older than she is in canon (making her twenty four in my fic)

**Chapter 3: Tenacity**

 

From the bright turquoise ends of the hair that cascaded down to her waist, to the soles of her heavy Doc Martins, Tonks felt a burning conviction that everything was going to change today. It was Monday morning and she was marching down the Victoria Embankment, taking long and firm strides through the hoards of smartly-dressed city Muggles and their bemused tourist counterparts. Her back pocket - magically enhanced with an invisible extension charm - was crammed full of reams and reams of parchment. Plans, diagrams, strategies - all written in her erratic, chaotic handwriting. Tonks smiled as a stiff breeze off the Thames pushed her onwards and she turned towards Whitehall; towards the public toilet that would take her down to work. She wasn’t going to let them push her aside any longer. She was the Auror who deserved to be put on the Sirius Black case. And this morning she was going to prove why. 

 

The words that Mad Eye had spoken to her the previous night rang in her ears:

 

_Don’t make trouble for yourself girl, you hear me?_

 

She’d sworn to Mad Eye that she would pretend to disbelieve Dumbledore. Fine. But she was incapable of sitting back and doing nothing at all. For two years, Tonks had watched as the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had flapped and failed and made a national embarrassment of itself. Sirius Black was still free and Tonks wanted to be the one to put him back behind bars. 

 

_Play at being the good ministry drone for now._

 

Each year since she had qualified, things had gotten weirder and weirder. Now her daily duties seemed to have dwindled into nothing but routine house raids and interminable ‘training weekends’. Fudge’s post-Triwizard ‘special briefing’ in which he had shuffled from one foot to another, twisted his lime green bowler hat in his hands and informed the assembled Aurors that Barty Crouch Junior was nothing more than a “lone wolf” had proven that their job was to become nothing more than a glorified twiddling of the thumbs. But there was someone who Tonks knew would tell her the truth. And, yesterday evening - when she was certain he would be back from Hogwarts - she apparated to see him.

 

She had realised instantly - when the first dustbin lid came hurtling at her head - that she’d made a rookie error by forgetting to owl ahead. She dodged it easily, but then came another and another. Alternating between exploding them with her wand and transfiguring them into pink puffs of smoke, she ducked and dived in a way that made her nostalgic for her Auror examinations. More hexes came for her, but a hefty shield charm and her bouncing jack rabbit patronus saw them off. Until, finally, out came the man himself - wooden leg banging against the front porch and a wand pointed directly at her face. His magical eye ricocheted up and down in its socket as it examined her with its familiar, penetrating stare. 

 

“Wotcher, Mad Eye!” Tonks grinned, stuffing her wand back in her jeans.

 

“What were the last words I spoke to you?” The words exploded from the grizzled old face. 

 

“Err… ‘Keep your eyes peeled for trouble. There’s something rotten at the Ministry’” Tonks growled in her best Mad Eye impression. 

 

Ignoring her smirk and pointing his wand even harder at her, he continued:

 

“What was the third defensive jinx I ever taught you?”

 

“I don’t have a bloody clue, Mad Eye! Come on, it’s me...look!” 

 

Tonks screwed up her face and her nose changed in rapid succession - hooked, snout-like, beaky - whilst her hair rippled through each colour of the rainbow. 

 

“Alright, alright - get in, lass!”

 

Laughing, she took the stairs up his front porch two at a time, following him inside. 

 

“Mad Eye, you old - “

 

But her playful jibe died in her throat at the sight of her mentor up close once the door had slammed behind her. He was thinner than she’d ever seen him; face sagging with tiredness, grey hair in a matted frizz. Unable to stop herself, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. 

 

“You look peaky as hell. Are you sure you’re alright?” Tonks demanded, looking keenly into his regular eye, after he’d brusquely shrugged her off. 

 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Don’t make a fuss, for pity’s sake” He growled, turning away from her to stomp unevenly down the dark corridor.

 

“I could have spit fire when I found out what that scum had done to you!” Said Tonks, immediately tripping over a dark detector stationed by the door. She stumbled forward, putting out a hand to steady herself on the wall, and heard an unfortunate crunch coming from the spinning instrument.

 

Once she’d dislodged herself, she followed Mad Eye down the crooked passage, all the while gabbling a mile-a-minute account of the past year: Bertha Jorkins’ disappearance; the Triwizard Tournament; Cedric Diggory. She was still continuing breathlessly when they reached the dimly lit sitting room. As with every visit to Mad Eye’s house, Tonks had the uncomfortable prickle of several objects all watching her at once; from the secrecy sensors, to the sneakoscopes, to the shadowy foe glasses. Mad Eye tested a bottle of whisky with his wand before pouring them each a large dram. 

   
“Mad Eye, tell me the truth - you-know-who is back isn’t he?”  Tonks demanded, accepting the glass. 

 

“You haven’t repeated that to anyone in the Auror Department, have you?” Asked Mad Eye sharply.

 

“I haven’t had a chance. They’ve been keeping us all apart all week! Sending us off on stupid wild goose chases and -”

 

“Well DON’T go saying that in front of them!” Barked Mad Eye. 

 

Tonks opened her mouth in protestation and whisky sloshed from it down her t-shirt.

 

“What?” She spluttered.

 

“You know that Fudge is in denial. He’s seeing enemies to his position everywhere. Paranoid!” Said Mad Eye, magical eye still flailing around to cover every corner of the house. “Any Auror not following the herd will be out.”

 

Tonks knew he was right of course, but all the same glared bitterly down into her glass. Mad Eye proceeded to tell her the full story - including Harry Potter himself’s personal account - to fill in all the blanks in her knowledge that had tormented her for the past week.

 

“And Fudge told us to our faces that there was no cause for alarm…This is so fucked up...” Said Tonks.

 

“And it’s playing right into the Death Eaters’ hands”

 

Tonks clenched her fists. “So…what do we do? What’s Dumbledore’s plan?”

 

“He’s got one. And that’s all you need to know for now. Don’t make trouble for yourself girl, you hear me?”

 

Tonks raised her eyebrows. “When have I ever been good at not making trouble?”

 

“You will be if you want to keep your job. And it’s crucial that you do. The more Dumbledore allies we have in the Ministry, the better”

 

Tonks grit her teeth. She’d always known the Ministry had lines of corruption and weakness running through it like blue mould in cheese, but she’d always been naive enough to think she’d be able to change it from within. Now she just felt trapped.

 

“But...there are fighters who don’t belong to the ministry...” Tonks said slowly, her eyes fixed on the face of her old trainer. “Reading between the lines of some of your old war stories, Mad Eye, it wasn’t just the Aurors battling you-know-who’s followers, was it? There was some kind of...secret society...am I right?”

 

Moody’s magical eye which had been bobbing up to the ceiling, now swung to fix its electric blue iris on her. During her time at Auror College - back when Mad Eye was still a Ministry employee — - she used to stay late in his office. Even after gruelling workouts and duelling practice, his old war stories never failed to invigorate her. As far as Mad Eye was concerned, he was telling her these tales of battle and bloodshed to talk some seriousness into her, to make her more cautious, but the reality was that she simply couldn’t get enough of them. 

 

“If it’s reforming, I want in” 

 

Mad Eye continued to stare at her. 

 

“I have to do _something!_ Don’t leave me languishing in a Ministry run by Fudge and his cronies. I’ll eventually just crack and have no choice but to morph into Cornelius Fudge, strip naked and drown myself in the Magic is Might fountain!”

 

Mad Eye gave a throaty chuckle. She’d always been the only trainee Auror able to make the much-feared veteran laugh. 

 

“ _Come on, Mad Eye_ ” She gestured, whisky splashing onto the carpet. “I’m ready for this. You know I am”

 

A lop-sided, unreadable sort of smile stretched the scarred features of Mad Eye’s face.

 

“What I know is that you’ve got a screw loose, Tonks. Play at being the good ministry drone for now. Your time will come”

 

Tonks sighed. She recognised his tone of voice. He was holding something back, but that tone meant that you didn’t argue. You waited. You earned it.

 

“Okay....I’ll pretend that I think Dumbledore’s barmy” Tonks conceded. “But I’m going to ask to be put on the Sirius Black case. They’ve held me back because of what my mum’s maiden name happens to be for way too long. I’m going to march into that office tomorrow and convince Shacklebolt to make me assistant Auror on the investigation”

 

Mad Eye was wearing an exceedingly odd expression now. He almost looked as if he was stifling another chuckle. Tonks narrowed her eyes but before she could question him he barked out a reply:

 

“You’ve always been bloody tenacious! Alright. Ask Shacklebolt tomorrow. See what answer you get”

 

Tonks nodded, half-satisfied. 

 

Once she’d returned to her flat, she’d downed a pint of water to clear her head and got to work. Under the disapproving eye of Mildred (a haughty eagle owl given as a graduation gift from her mother), she summoned her books and parchment and spread everything across her kitchen floor. Sucking the end of her quill, she furrowed her brow and began to strategize. Where could Sirius Black be and what methods would be most effective at tracking him down? 

 

As she plotted and calculated, there was a vague awareness in the back of her mind that this wasn’t how other twenty-four year olds tended to spend their evenings. It was certainly not a broomstick tour of South East Asia, a curse breaking adventure in Egypt or a gigglewater rave in Brighton - all features of the lives her old school friends were currently living. They’d been bemusedly supportive as she - the consummate rule breaker and boundary pusher - had defied all expectations and gone straight into a Ministry job. But Tonks pushed all this out of her mind. If she could land Sirius Black, she could bring the Ministry incontrovertible evidence and Fudge would no longer be able to deny the return of you-know-who. Then Tonks and the Aurors could launch an official attack before the Death Eaters got stronger.

 

Now on Monday morning (though she had overslept slightly - waking half an hour late with a map of Tibet stuck to her cheek) her plans were ready. She flushed herself into the familiar ladies’ toilet and arrived into the gleaming main hall of the Ministry of Magic. She headed across the polished floors to the elevators, slipping slightly and bumping into a disgruntled Unspeakable as she pulled her Auror robes over her head. After a lift ride spent in awkward small talk with a witch from the Centaur Relations Office and glaring at the back of Albert Runcorn’s head, she finally burst onto Level 2.

 

“Call this 9am, Auror Tonks?” Came a sneering voice. 

 

“Call that a moustache, Auror Dawlish? It looks like a flobberworm that’s been left out in the sun for too long”

 

“One more late arrival and I’ll be informing Scrimgeour” 

 

Tonks flounced past him without another word, but she winced internally. Dawlish may be the  worst example of an Auror in the Ministry’s pocket but she really needed to learn to hold her tongue sometimes. Reaching her desk, she flopped into her chair next to Finlay Savage.

 

“Is Shacklebolt in?”

 

“Good morning to you too” Finlay spun in his chair, with a raised eyebrow, a set of magical cards in his hands. “Sure, he’s in. What’s it you want him for?”

 

Tonks leaned towards him and stage whispered:

 

“Sirius Black is still at-large and I’m stuck at this perishing desk”

 

Finlay laughed. “Not that _again_. You can moan all you want, Tonks, but they’ll never put you on that case. Not when the convict is your own bloody cousin!”

 

“Second cousin once removed. That hardly counts as family” Said Tonks, squashing the memory of being ten years old and sitting, confused and frightened, on the stairs as she listened to her mother’s anguished howl of grief and disbelief. Then, later, the crackle of photographs burning in the fireplace. 

 

“We’re supposed to be the best of the best - dark wizard catching machines” Tonks continued. “But Fudge just seems to want us improving our paperwork skills. And Scrimgeour’s allowing it”

 

“It’s a slow time for dark wizards” Said Finlay shrugging. 

 

“Barty Crouch Junior stealing the identity of the greatest Auror that’s ever lived… you call that slow?”

 

Finlay looked guilty. “Sure, there was one remaining nutter. But the Dementors took care of him. He got what he deserved”

 

Tonks bit the inside of her cheek. Finlay had been a good friend at Auror College - even, after several pints, more than a good friend on a few occasions - but his apathetic swallowing of the ministry line was infuriating. She sighed, weighing her words:

 

 “The Black investigation has stalled. Surely you can see that?” 

 

“Shacklebolt’s the best Auror we’ve got. If he says Sirius Black’s in Tibet, then Sirius Black is in Tibet” Said Finlay, turning back to his cards. “If you ask me, Black’s got no interest in Britain anymore. He’s probably off abroad somewhere looking for a new dark lord to follow. You-know-who’s been dead and gone for years”

 

Tonks chewed her lip. 

 

“You don’t believe all that guff Dumbledore is spouting do you?” Finlay span back to face her.

 

“Course not” Said Tonks, getting to her feet quickly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take down the last Death Eater standing”

 

Ignoring Finlay’s shout of “He’ll never say yes!”, Tonks stormed to Shacklebolt’s office. She’d now changed her hair to the least Black-family style she could imagine - a pink mohawk. Forgetting to knock, she barged straight in, pulling the plans from her back pocket and strewing them across his desk.

 

“What are these exactly, Auror Tonks” Said Kingsley slowly in his low voice, looking down at the crumpled papers, seemingly unfazed and unsurprised by her dramatic entrance.

 

Tonks launched into a detailed explanation of her plan of action. When she stopped to draw breath, Shacklebolt interrupted her. 

 

“Auror Tonks” He said, raising a hand to stop her spiel. “This is good work. Excellent work, in fact” His brown eyes roved over the plans, before travelling up slowly to meet hers. “But there’s a question I need to ask you”

 

“Go ahead, Sir” Tonks felt her heart rate speed up.

 

“Do you believe Albus Dumbledore when he says that he-who-must-be-named has returned?”

 

“Absolutely not” Said Tonks, as evenly as she could.

 

“Very convincing. Well done” Said Shacklebolt, with a calm smile.

 

Shacklebolt brought out his wand and whispered a series of charms onto the door behind her. Tonks’ fingers instinctively moved closer to her own wand. This was odd.

 

“It’s the truth, Sir” Said Tonks, raising her chin to disguise the flicker of alarm that crossed her features.

 

Shacklebolt chuckled. Tonks felt more than a little freaked out now.

 

“I had a little conversation with Alastor Moody last night” He said. 

 

Tonks said nothing. There was no sound save for the heavy rainstorm raging in the enchanted window. Was this some sort of trap? 

 

“Yes. He called me only a few minutes after you left. Once he’d fixed the dark detector by his door, of course”

 

Tonks’ heart beat even faster now. Though she felt like she might explode with questions, she clamped her lips shut.

 

“Albus Dumbledore joined us shortly after”

 

At these words, there was a crack and the Supreme Mugwump himself appeared in the room. Tonks gasped and took a step backwards. She had believed it to be impossible to apparate into the Ministry, but Dumbledore had just done so right in front of her. He was standing there in his richly embroidered purple robes, peering over his golden horn-rimmed spectacles with a half-amused look in his blue eyes. Tonks clapped her hands to her mouth as a delighted laugh of surprise escaped her.

 

“Nymphadora” Said Dumbledore, inclining his silver head.

 

Tonks’ joyous awe vanished in an instant and she frowned. “It’s Tonks, Professor” She said quickly.

 

“How could I forget? My apologies, Tonks” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and Kingsley Shacklebolt shook his head, smiling. “I’ve received a glowing recommendation of your talents from Alastor Moody. He tells me that you would like to offer your services to the cause of fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Is that correct?”

 

“Yes. Absolutely” Said Tonks, stepping closer to her former Headmaster.

 

“Splendid. In that case, I believe we may be able to offer you a place in the Order of the Phoenix” 

 

Dumbledore continued to speak and Tonks listened, enraptured. The walls of her current life were crumbling.

 

“....oh and there is a rather important piece of information that I need to give you regarding your cousin, Sirius Black...”

 

Tonks’ eyes were wide and her breathing heavy as the news fell on her. Change was here.


	4. Bleak House

**Chapter 3: Bleak House**

Remus’ old life of solitude on the moors felt like a universe away after just one week in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Their first sight of the house didn’t come until the depths of the early hours - casting a convincing disillusionment charm on a hippogriff had taken all afternoon, even with the sudden arrival of Sirius’ wand from Dumbledore (mysteriously procured from the Ministry’s vaults). When they’d finally touched down in the leafy square of Grimmauld Place, they had to spend a few tense minutes waiting for a group of drunken revellers to pass whilst desperately trying to silence Buckbeak, who was straining to get at a cocky urban fox sniffing the air nearby.

 

When the coast was clear, Sirius spoke. Though his words were quiet, the bitterness of his tone meant they were clear and crisp.

 

“Twelve Grimmauld Place”

 

An older, darker house began to squeeze through the Victorian terrace before them: a towering, black-bricked dwelling with Gothic arches and the Black family motto emblazoned on a brass, snake-shaped door knocker. Though the handle curled into life under Sirius’ grip and turned easily, the great door itself was stiff and sticky. Entirely impervious to magic, it wouldn’t even budge when they slammed their shoulders against it. Sirius growled in frustration and gave it a brutal kick. The huge door sprang open and hit the inside wall, sending a flurry of dust and muck showering down on their heads. They hurried through and slammed the bolt behind them. The hallway was a disorientating tunnel of darkest black. Remus could feel the tickle of cobwebs breaking on his cheek and the vibrations of small bodies scurrying around his ankles. 

 

Flames soared from Sirius’ wand into sconces on the walls. There was a beat as they squinted through the gloom. Then the screaming began. A screeching, ear-splitting caterwaul that sent the hairs on Remus’ arms standing on end. They sprinted towards the source of the noise, clattering up the staircase. As they ran, the paintings on the walls began to scream too. In a dim blur, Remus could just make out the grotesque, furious faces of Sirius’ dark-eyed ancestors. They stopped short at a canvas in which something was writhing feverishly. The light of their wands illuminated a twisted face that - though he had never seen it in person before - Remus knew instantly.

 

“YOU _DARE_ ENTER THE HOUSE OF YOUR NOBLE ANCESTORS? YOU _DARE_ BESMIRCH THE PURITY OF THE HOUSE OF BLACK WITH YOUR TREACHEROUS BLOOD?”

 

“The house is mine now, Mother!” Sirius shouted back at the portrait, his voice a slightly wild combination of triumph and revulsion. “I’m going to tear apart every last vestige of your poisonous ancestors and then I’m going to fill this place with all of your _favourite_ kinds of people...mudbloods, blood traitors, half-giants - even a werewolf for good measure!” 

 

The eyes of the painting fell on Remus. “FILTH! HALF-BREED! YOU SHOULD BE EXTERMINATED WHERE YOU STAND FOR ENTERING THE HOUSE OF MY FOREBEARS”

 

“The curtain” Said Remus calmly, before Sirius could continue the shouting match. 

 

Once the heavy drapes hid Walburga Black from view, she was quieted and the rest of the portraits fell silent too. The house became deathly still, save for the flutterings of dust and faint scratching sounds behind the skirting boards. 

 

“Home sweet home” Muttered Sirius, staring at the fusty curtain that concealed the mother he hadn’t seen in almost two decades. “Never thought I’d wind up here again” 

 

Remus went to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but Sirius shrugged him off and slouched back down the stairs to Buckbeak. 

 

“I’ll take the downstairs, you take the upstairs” He called, his tone sharp. “There’s probably vicious little traps all over this hell hole, so keep your wits about you”

 

Remus sighed and, holding his glowing wand aloft, headed up. On the outside of a closed door, he saw the name-plate _Sirius_. He pushed it open and crossed the threshold. Immediately, his body was overcome with a paralysing, crushing sensation. He struggled to grip his wand and felt his weakened post-full moon body tipping forward onto the floor; succumbing to what he knew was powerful magic. As his head hit the floor, he saw a pair of green, horned feet....

 

“LEAVE HIM ALONE” A voice boomed from somewhere above him. “I’m your Master now and I order you to remove whatever heinous curse you’ve put on him RIGHT NOW”

 

Remus felt his exhausted body released from the vice grip of the spell. Breathing rapidly, he sat up and gazed on a snout-nosed, elderly house elf. Its bloodshot eyes were staring up at Sirius with a look of utter detestation. 

 

“Hello - er, Kreacher is it?” Remus said hoarsely, attempting to catch the elf’s eye with as polite a smile as he could muster, whilst he got to his feet. “I think we might have got off on the wrong - ”

 

“Kreacher had believed that master was locked away in Azkaban…” The elf spoke in a frantic mutter, as if Remus had never spoken. “Never did Kreacher think that he would darken the doorstep of this noble house once more….How Kreacher hoped he would never again set eyes on the unnatural, treacherous swine…Now he says he will bring freaks and werewolves and mudbloods and filth into -“

 

“Enough of that bile” Snapped Sirius, raising his hand. “Listen to me, you little shit, you do not hurt, kill, maim, or curse anyone who enters this house. Now get out of my sight!” 

 

Kreacher skulked from the room, without ceasing his whispering.

 

“And for Merlin’s sake, do some goddamn _CLEANING_ for once!” Sirius yelled through the door - so loudly that dust came down from the ceiling to settle on the carpet around them.

 

“Sirius - ” Remus began, unable to keep a note of frustration out of his voice. 

 

“Christ, Moony!” Sirius cut him off. “Only you would try to be polite to a creature like that immediately after it tried to bloody murder you! Trust me - there’s no point. He’s a lost cause. He swallowed every last bit of foul ideology from my parents and fool of a brother”

 

Sirius scratched at the wall, trying to rip Peter’s face out of an old group photograph, but it wouldn’t budge. Glaring even harder, he turned back to Remus. 

 

“We should get some sleep. I’ll take this old room. At least it’s got some personality beyond pureblood raving nutter” His eyes travelled over the old motorcycling posters and Muggle pin ups dispassionately. “You take Regulus’. Rip down all his old crap and chuck it in the bin”

 

Remus crossed the hall and entered the room labelled Regulus Arcturus Black. Inside was the room of a boy clearly enamoured with the dark arts, but - as Remus looked over the Quidditch trophies, the newspaper cuttings, the faded old socks - he couldn’t bring himself to touch any of it. Then he realised that the small lump at the end of Regulus’ bed was moving and an ancient foot was poking out of the side. It was Kreacher. Silently sobbing beneath the moth-eaten blankets of his beloved, forever seventeen-year-old, master. Remus shut the door quietly.

 

He found himself a spare room on the floor above instead. After scouring, purging and neutralising it as best he could, he began to unpack his meagre possessions: pulling shabby old clothes, books, potions and candles out of his suitcase. The only object of note that he owned was his mother’s old Muggle record player, with a stack of vinyl in tattered sleeves. He placed this on a bedside table. It was sentimental, he knew, but the crackling sound of the music from his teenage years never failed to calm him. He could hear Sirius banging around in his room below, though Remus knew he didn’t have a single thing to unpack. 

 

Remus’ night was heavy with waking dreams. The recent full moon gave him pains throughout his body, which sent him tossing and turning, slipping through layers of consciousness without ever quite reaching the full oblivion of true sleep. Images flickered beneath his eyelids: the screeching faces of the paintings, his own mother’s thin and weak face as she lay dying, Sirius laughing in the middle of a bloodied street on the front of the Daily Prophet. All the while, the house creaked and sighed around him.

——————

The next morning, Sirius and Remus got to work. They sent great plumes of soapy water from their wands to gush through the reeking corridors and scour the grime, decay and insidious infestations out of the house. The most sinister looking of the ornaments and dark magical relics, including a black glass ball that caused Remus an intense burning pain to touch but which Sirius could handle easily, were unceremoniously wrapped in shield charms and thrown straight into an extendable rubbish bag. In the kitchen, a flesh-eating slug gave Sirius a nasty bite and there were so many boggarts popping out of the cupboards that the room was quickly filled with an amusing number of floating full moons. Indeed, thought Remus as he stunned a chizpurfle and placed it carefully in a bag for relocation, it would have made an excellent obstacle course for his old third years. 

 

Through a tiny door in the corner of the kitchen and down a narrow, uneven staircase was the Black family wine cellar. Sirius sniffed the evil-looking liquid inside one dusty bottle hopefully before throwing it in disgust into the rubbish bag. 

 

“This is perfect for full moon” Said Remus. “I can transform in here”

 

“Lovely” Said Sirius, looking around at the dank, stone room. “Trust you to find yourself the bleakest corner of the bleakest bloody building in Britain to make your own” 

 

By the time the sun began to set, Remus and Sirius called time and mutually agreed that setting the kids to work on the rest of the house would be character building. After checking that the protection charms were still active on the house’s roof, they clamboured through an upstairs window and cracked open two cold beers. Remus was aware that this was probably the last time he and Sirius would be alone for the rest of the summer and everything that still remained unsaid and undiscussed between them began to circle in his mind. But Sirius’ mood was buoyant once more and Remus was reluctant to bring his friend down to the depths of the previous night by bringing up the first war. So instead they sat, legs stretched out and shirt sleeves rolled up, as the summer sun dipped below the horizon, listening to the crack of bones as Buckbeak did his bit to reduce their rodent problem. 

 

“I suspect this is the closest I’ll get to freedom for a while” Said Sirius.

 

“Well...” Said Remus. “Might as well enjoy it. I think this might be the calm before the storm” 

 

Sure enough, the next morning saw the arrival of the full Weasley family and an explosion of red-headed teenagers into Grimmauld Place. Despite the fact that the last time he’d seen them he had been transforming into a werewolf before their very eyes, Ron and Hermione’s faces broke into wide smiles on seeing Remus at the house.

 

“Professor Lupin!” Cried Hermione delightedly, before Remus could deliver his apology. “Oh, it’s brilliant to see you! I’ve been reading about patronuses in _Confronting the Faceless_ and I have such an awful lot of questions about - ”

 

“Hermione! We’re not at Hogwarts now, don’t interrogate him!” Said Ron, rolling his eyes and grinning at Remus. “What’re you doing here, Professor?” 

 

Though he swiftly had to assure them that he was certainly not Professor Lupin anymore, the sound of his short-lived title brought a bittersweet pang of nostalgia. But there was no time to dwell on that - there was a crack and the twins appeared, staring at Remus and Sirius with identical expressions of indignant awe.

 

“Moony” Said Fred.

 

“Padfoot” Said George. 

 

Remus and Sirius grinned at each other (Remus, who had placed them in detention several times, more than a little sheepishly). The twins had then sat them down and grilled them for half an hour on the mechanics of the map - whilst assuring them that their interest was nothing more than simple curiosity and absolutely unrelated to any budding business ideas. The relaxed dynamic Remus enjoyed with the family wasn’t entire, however. In Molly, Remus - ever sensitive to such things - noticed reservation. Remus knew it must be difficult - to have been told all your life that werewolves were dangerous and likely to devour you in your sleep, to suddenly having to share a house with one - so he kept a respectful distance. 

 

One afternoon, when taking a book from one of the shelves in the library, he felt the sharp pain of a set of tiny teeth sinking into his hand. A doxy had been hiding in the back of the bookcase. Molly, who had been cleaning nearby, rushed over with the bottle of antidote.

 

“Oh!” She said, frowning. “What’s happening to it?”

 

The doxy swayed, almost drunkenly, in the air before it dropped like a stone to the floor. Its tiny, coarse-haired chest rose in one final rasping breath before it fell still.

 

“Cursed blood, I’m afraid” Remus said quietly. “The doxy’s system can’t take it…” 

 

He could feel Molly watching him as he sadly picked up the lifeless body and gently wrapped it in one of the Black family’s snake-embroidered doilies. He went to leave the room, not wishing Molly to feel uncomfortable, but he felt a gentle touch on his arm. 

 

“Ginny had a very lonely first couple of years at Hogwarts” Molly said.

 

Remus turned to her in surprise at this non-sequitur, but Molly’s eyes were fixed steadily on his and the look in them was warm. 

 

“Of course, it’s impossible to tell when you look at her now” She continued. “She’s grown into such a vivacious, confident young woman…Merlin knows she can give the twins a run for their money! But…back then…after everything that happened to her...with the diary...I think she felt very isolated. I was worried sick about her that year - what with dementors swarming all over the grounds and the terrible nightmares she was having. We got letters home constantly. But then, one day, she wrote to say that she was feeling a little better. That there was a very kind new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor who was a favourite of Harry’s and who she’d gone to for a little chat” 

 

Remus blinked. He remembered the day when a pale, anxious 12 year old Ginny Weasley had stayed behind after an Expelliarmus class. In a very quiet voice, she had asked him why it was that the dementors had made her feel that way; how it was they had brought the memories of Tom Riddle - still painfully fresh anyway - back into such piercing focus that it was as if she was living them all over again. Remus had made two mugs of hot chocolate and they’d sat together in his office for almost an hour.

 

“I suppose...she simply needed to talk to someone” Said Remus, his cheeks warm. “Someone outside of her peer group” 

 

“She needed someone to listen. And _you_ listened to her” Said Molly, her eyes wrinkled at the corners. Then, as quickly as her tender mood had come, she was suddenly brisk. “You know, you’re looking awfully peaky! Those pumpkin brownies I put in the oven should be just about ready, - do come down and try one won’t you?”

 

————————

 

The house became more habitable by the day and the real work for the Order of the Phoenix began. Each day they added more names to their Death Eater watch list, analysed potential attack sites, set up surveillance on high profile Imperius curse targets and, as part of a mysterious edict from Dumbledore, set up a nightly guard duty for the Ministry of Magic’s Hall of Prophecies. Remus threw himself into it all. The only task he found truly draining was watching Harry. Though it was wonderful to see him again, it was painful to watch James and Lily’s son suffering alone at the sterile 4 Privet Drive at a time when 12 Grimmauld Place was heaving with people and energy. On top of this, every time Remus returned from a shift, he faced a bombardment of questions about Harry’s welfare from Sirius and Molly. It never took long for the two of them to descend into an argument, for which Remus was, inevitably, peacemaker. 

 

Finally, the day of the first full meeting of the new Order of the Phoenix arrived. There were old faces as well as new (a capable, grey-haired Emmeline Vance; the eldest and effortlessly confident Weasley son, Bill; a ruddy and quick-to-laughter Hestia Jones and the dapper, self-possessed Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt). And then…there was Snape. 

 

“I hear you’ve found your true calling, Black. I’m surprised to see you without an apron. How _is_ the cleaning going?” 

 

“It’s delightful, Snivellus, though I’m sure not quite as delightful as your cosy reunion with Voldemort and all your old chums. Afternoon tea was it?” 

 

A tactical clearing of the throat from Dumbledore put an end to this exchange and Snape’s eyes slid from Sirius to Remus. Remus felt the glare like a physical scald, but he gave his former colleague a civil smile and nod all the same. He reminded himself of quite how lucky he was to be in a room stuffed full of witches and wizards and for there to be just one looking at him like he was scum. 

 

The room was buzzing now. A strange sensation took over Remus’ senses. In the corner of his eyes, he could see a different Order of the Phoenix. It could be Frank and Alice Longbottom spreading a map of the Ministry of Magic out on the table, not Arthur and Molly. It could be Dorcas Meadowes laughing and banging a glass on the table, not Emmeline Vance. It could be Marlene McKinnon preparing a pipe, not Mundungus Fletcher. Sirius caught his eye and Remus knew that he was feeling the same way. James should have been sat at the table with them. He would be ruffling his hair and shouting across the room, one arm around Lily whose green eyes would be sparkling with excitement. 

 

Then Dumbledore politely tapped on his glass and Sirius looked away.

 

“First bit of business” Growled Mad Eye. He was stood at the head of the table; the quintessential general, overseeing his troops. “We’ve got a new recruit who needs initiation. Junior Auror. Plucky. Nice duelling skills. Best in the business at concealment. Mad as a box of frogs” There was an affectionate note of pride in the grizzled battleaxe’s voice that Remus had never heard before. “She comes highly recommended. By me. Any questions?” 

 

“Yeah. Who is it?” Said Sirius, leaning back in his chair.

 

“Nymphadora Tonks. Daughter of Ted Tonks and - ”

 

Sirius’ chair fell back onto four legs with a loud bang.

 

“- Andromeda Black” he finished. “Holy fuck...so she must be my...second cousin...once removed?!”

 

“Something like that” Said Mad Eye.

 

“Oh Sirius!” Exclaimed Molly. “You see - some of your family are like you, after all!”

 

Sirius gave Molly an amused, but genuine, grin. Remus allowed himself a brief moment of hope for peace between them. 

 

“She’ll be assistant Auror on your case, Sirius. That way she and I will be able to give our time to the Order under cover of looking for you” Kingsley explained. 

 

“Ha! Fantastic” Said Sirius.

 

“I’m assuming there are no objections…?” Mad Eye’s magical eye hopped from one member of the Order to another. 

 

Though Remus noticed Snape raising a sardonic eyebrow, the rest of the room smiled in approval.

 

“Splendid” Said Dumbledore. “Because I invited her for dinner and she’s waiting - albeit a little impatiently - upstairs”

 

Sirius leapt to his feet, his chair scraping the stone floor. 

 

“Oh and don’t call her Nymphadora unless you fancy spending the evening transfigured into a fluorescent pink hedgehog”


	5. Phoenix Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a reminder that, as I’ve made Tonks two years older than canon, I’ve decided to have her be in the same school year as Bill Weasley (instead of Charlie). 
> 
> Thank you SO much to everyone who has commented + given kudos so far :)

**Chapter 4: Phoenix Fire**

 

The tip of Tonks’ finger traced the intricate gold thread that ran between two names: Bellatrix Black and Andromeda Black. Her nose was mere inches from the Black family tapestry and, with a dry mouth, she stared into the scorched hole above her mother’s name. This branch of her family history had always been shadowy, secret. No one had ever wanted to talk about it, least of all Tonks. She had always regarded her mother’s maiden name as an embarrassing but fundamentally irrelevant part of her own existence, utterly unconnected to the Tonks family. But here it all was - laid out before her in green and gold. She pressed her hand against the empty space where her name would have been, before gazing with a frown upon the name of a first cousin she had never even heard of. _Draco Malfoy_. Though she could only assume he was a nasty piece of work given who he had for a father, Tonks felt an odd flash of sympathy: the Black family sisters clearly had a penchant for granting their children the most ridiculous first names. 

 

The bubbling excitement she had felt on entering the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix - which had made her so hyped-up she’d knocked over a troll leg umbrella stand and unwittingly awakened some shrieking long-lost relative - had faded. Instead, the sight of the decapitated house elves, the austere faces in the portraits (some of whom shared her same heart-shaped face) and vintage pureblood propaganda produced an emotion she never would have expected. Guilt. This was the world in which a young Andromeda Black was raised but instead of succumbing to its poison she chose to turn her back and marry the lovely, unassuming muggleborn Ted Tonks. Tonks made a mental vow to stop rowing with her mum every chance she got. This was part of who her mum was and, though it was a disorientating thought, that meant it was part of Tonks too. 

 

“Quite the freak show isn’t it?” 

 

Tonks jumped. Her head snapped towards the doorway and she found herself staring into the face of the man she had, until recently, been plotting to hunt down. It was the same face from the Daily Prophet that had stared lifelessly out from between a curtain of matted hair and, in that iconic image from the first war, had laughed with a vicious mania before a crater of bodies. Here though, she saw something of her mother in that face. And something else too - a cheeky glint - that reminded her of…well…herself. All she could do was speak the words she had originally been hoping to say once she’d pinned him to the ground, with her knee in his back and her wand at his throat. 

 

“Wotcher, Sirius”

 

Sirius stayed leaning against the doorframe, but now he was smiling. 

 

“Cool hair… _cousin_ ”

 

“Right back at you, cousin. It’s very…Azkaban convict meets Black Sabbath member”

 

Sirius gave a loud bark of laughter and Tonks couldn’t stop herself from crossing the room to wrap her arms around his neck. He hesitated in surprise for just a moment, before squeezing her back in a tight bear hug that almost winded her. Soon they were both laughing, a little giddy. Tonks was brimming with the novelty of having a cousin - of having _any_ family member besides her parents. With her mum in absolute exile from her family, her dad an only child and Nana Tonks herself a single mother, Tonks had spent her childhood bouncing off the walls and longing for playmates at home. As they broke apart, Tonks’ dark blue eyes met Sirius’ black ones - identical to her mum’s. 

 

“Time for some introductions!” Sirius grabbed her arm and promptly whisked her to the steps leading to the basement. 

 

As they swept down, she briefly caught sight of a snout-nosed house elf poking his face through the bannisters and scowling at her but, before she could ask, they burst into the kitchen and were greeted by a wall of faces. Sirius began swirling her from person to person in a whirlwind of names and handshakes. He then seized the sleeve of a threadbare jumper and yanked forward a tall, pale man who had been setting the table whilst the rest of the room had been fussing around her. 

 

“Cousin Tonks, meet my oldest friend and marauding companion - Remus Lupin”

 

“Lovely to meet you” Said Remus Lupin, whose grey eyes were bright. 

 

“You too!” Said Tonks. 

 

His hands were full of plates so she gave him a jaunty wave in greeting instead. She had been about to ask him exactly what a ‘marauding companion’ entailed, but was suddenly distracted by the sight, over his shoulder, of - 

 

“BILL!” Tonks called delightedly. 

 

With his red hair tied into a messy bun at the back of his head and wearing a low slung grey tank top not quite hiding a collection of tattoos on his inside arm, Bill Weasley looked more the hipster than ever. 

 

“How come we spent seven years at school together and you never once mentioned that Sirius Black was your bloody relative?” Demanded Bill with a wink after a warm hug of greeting. 

 

“I - err - kept it pretty quiet” Said Tonks, with a glance towards Sirius. 

 

“Can’t blame her really” Said Sirius, with a reassuring loftiness. “I’m pretty embarrassing” 

 

“I can vouch for that” Said Remus Lupin, dryly. 

 

“I’m surprised no one noticed the family resemblance, to be honest” Said Tonks. 

 

She morphed her hair out of its spiky pink so it came down to her shoulders in thick, dishevelled ebony locks and morphed her eyes to match, leaning her head on Sirius’ shoulder to put their faces side-by-side. Though the two of them couldn't see it, their faces bore identical evil grins. The room erupted in gasps and cheers - which was the usual effect that a true metamorphmagus had on a crowd. Soon they were calling out requests and she began changing her facial appearance so rapidly that she became out of breath. A sharp rap of a wooden leg against the huge mahogany dining table cut through the din. 

 

“Alright, alright” Mad Eye snapped. “We’re not here for Tonks’ dog and pony show! Let’s get this meeting started”  

 

There was the odd smirk but the assembled Order took their seats. Tonks met Mad Eye’s regular eye and he replied with a shake of the frazzled grey hair on his head, which she knew meant he wasn’t truly annoyed. He secretly approved of her lack of professionalism as much as it irritated him sometimes. The atmosphere began to fade out of its previous celebratory mood now. Then once Dumbledore - resplendent in robes of gold and purple with his silver beard gleaming in the candlelight - cleared his throat to begin, you could have heard a pin drop in the room. 

 

“Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Tonks” 

 

The Headmaster of Hogwarts stood at the head of the table, surveying the mismatched jumble of witches and wizards before him. As he continued speaking, delivering a shower of information, Tonks was barely able to keep from fidgeting in her seat. He talked through, in his calm musical voice, everything that was known about the Death Eaters and their plans…what the strategy of the Order was…what missions they were required to complete…everything she had been so desperate to know and more. She was betraying the Ministry of Magic - the organization she’d dedicated the whole of her young adult life to serving - and she felt exhilarated.

 

As Dumbledore took a dignified seat, Mad Eye rose and addressed Tonks directly. 

 

“You may have had your training, but you’re not prepared. There’s nothing that can prepare you for this fight except the fighting of it. The Death Eaters kill but - remember this - they always like to play with their food first. Avada Kedavra’s too quick and easy for some of them. They like to design and invent their own curses - twisted, sadistic tricks. They want to obliterate us individually but they want to frighten us too; lower morale; crack our resolve. It worked for them last time and I’ve no doubt they’ll try it on us again this time. In the first war, we had members of the Order of the Phoenix - brave, strong warriors every one - exploded into smithereens, hung from roof rafters, forced into unspeakable acts, tortured into insanity…”

 

Dumbledore’s blue eyes were empty of their signature twinkle and he looked older than Tonks had ever seen him. Molly Weasley’s lip was trembling. Tonks was utterly still in her seat now. 

 

“You’ve all heard me say it before - hell, some of you probably think of it as my goddamn catchphrase -  but _constant vigilance_ is your only hope for staying alive” 

 

With that, Mad Eye took his seat, his magical eye moving over each somber face in turn. 

 

“You could lose everything that matters to you” Sirius muttered from his seat. His jaw was set and he was no longer the energetic host; he looked as if he was still sat in his cell at Azkaban. “You need to know that. _Everything_ ”

 

“It’s a common misconception that our side won the war last time” It was Remus Lupin speaking this time. Tonks watched him in rapt attention - so Sirius’ marauding companion was a fellow veteran of the first war too? “But the truth is, we didn’t win. We didn’t even come close. The only reason Voldemort was defeated was because of the sacrifice made by Lily Potter and the miracle that is Harry Potter”

 

Dumbledore’s fingers were steepled. He was staring into the flame of the long, thin candle before him.

 

“Voldemort had greater numbers than us, that’s true, but that wasn’t all” Remus continued. “We had begun to tear each other apart from the inside. Chaos and treachery can reap as much damage as even the dark magic of Voldemort’s most crazed followers”

 

Sirius’ hand was gripping the table so hard his knuckles were white. Remus put a hand on his shoulder, before looking around the table again.

 

“But it’s the fight we have to fight. And I for one do not intend for us to lose this time” 

 

“Hear hear” Tonks called out, banging her fist on the table, welcoming in this spark of hope. Many of the assembled Order members jumped in their seats; Dedalus Diggle gave a squeak and landed two feet away from his chair onto the floor. They all looked at her - some grateful, some scandalised, all surprised - but each felt the knife-edge of tension in the room start to smooth. 

 

“Well said, all” Said Dumbledore. The gleam was back in his eyes now. “We’ve summoned a few shadows with our words tonight, but I propose we allay those shadows for a time and enjoy the splendid meal awaiting us. Molly, will you do the honours?”

 

After dabbing a tear from the corner of her ear and assuring the room that it was no trouble really, Molly clapped her hands and steaming pots of dinner appeared in the centre of the table. Tonks heaped ladle after ladle of lamb hotpot onto the plate in front of her; she was ravenous. Chewing enthusiastically, she began drifting in and out of the conversations around her: teasing Mundungus about all his misadventures with the ministry…

 

“It woz such a _bargain_ , though Tonks…”

 

…answering Molly’s many questions about the life of an Auror…

 

“The reason I’m interested is that Ron - that’s my youngest boy - has started to go on about becoming an Auror, but I’ve told him and told him that if that’s what he really wants, he needs to start pulling his socks up at school…”

 

…and eventually tuning into a raucous conversation between Sirius, Bill and Remus Lupin...

 

“So me and James managed to get _into_ the suits of armour but we never thought through how to actually get out of them again” Sirius was saying, with a manic grin at the other two who were chuckling along. “Moony here was our only hope of escape, but he -“

 

“Why does he call you ‘Moony’?” Tonks interjected, taking a sip of beer. 

 

There was an unmistakeable dipping of noise around the table. Tonks felt the gaze from numerous tilted heads as people attempted to subtly pause their conversations in order to listen to this exchange. Remus Lupin met her eyes and, hesitating for a moment as if steeling himself for something, said:  

 

“Because I am a werewolf” 

 

Tonks swallowed but the bubbles tickled her throat, causing her to splutter. Whatever she had expected, this wasn’t it. Though she held a passionate, minority view that werewolves were victims of vile blood prejudice and, instead of being the ‘dark creatures’ they were purported to be, they were just ordinary people with an affliction...she’d never actually met one. She coughed, cheeks glowing as she realised the whole room was now staring at her, before her brain flailed into action and produced the first joke she could think of.

 

“I thought it might have been because you’d had a penchant for pulling moonies on teachers or something” She rasped, taking another sip. 

 

“Oh” Said Remus, lightly. “That too”

 

This time the beer came spraying out onto the table as Tonks let out a relieved giggle. Sirius put two sarcastic thumbs up at her as she clapped a hand over her mouth. Molly Weasley looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or tell someone off. Mad Eye took a swig from his hip flask disinterestedly; he was entirely unsurprised that his mentee has caused a minor spectacle. Remus Lupin was smiling politely, but his grey eyes were completely unreadable. 

 

To Tonks’ relief, the rest of the meal passed without further humiliating incident. But, as she helped clear the empty plates - succeeding at smashing only a couple - something niggled at her. Remus Lupin hadn’t met her gaze once for the entire rest of the dinner. She’d tried to catch his eye to give him a grateful look for being such a good sport, but - purposely or not - he hadn’t glanced her way at all. As the others busied themselves with putting the room back together again, she squeezed through them to grab his elbow. 

 

“Hey…listen…” She said softly, once he’d turned around to face her, a mild but somewhat cautious look on his face. “I’m really sorry for putting you on the spot like that. Questions have a tendency to just come tumbling out of my mouth at inappropriate moments. I don’t have much of a filter, y’know?”

 

“There’s really no need to apologise” He said. His tone was friendly, but he still didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’m sorry if the news came as something of a shock”

 

“Don’t _you_ say sorry!” Said Tonks, indignantly. “I don’t care if you’re a werewolf! It’s me who’s the honkingly awkward one causing scenes at the dinner table!” 

 

“Don’t be silly” Said Remus, his body language noticeably more relaxed now, and smiling at her more directly. “It’s a pleasure to have you here. And it’s incredibly valuable for us to have another talented Auror joining our ranks”

 

Tonks beamed at him.  “Cheers. I appreciate that”

 

A pair of hands squeezed her shoulders. It was Sirius. 

 

“To the library. Let’s go” He whispered in her ear and gave her a pat on the back. 

 

“The library…why?” 

 

Tonks noticed the assembled Order moving up the stairs. 

 

“For your initiation, dear” Said Molly, kindly. “This way…come on now…”

 

“My…what?”

 

Tonks was chivvied up the stairs into the dark main hallway. As she followed the group deeper towards the back of the house, she heard whispers from above. She peered up to see the curious freckled faces and unmistakeable scarlet hair of Bill’s teenage siblings. She waved up at them and they all waved eagerly back; two of them frantically pulling some odd flesh coloured string out of sight. Before she could call up to them, Molly bustled past her and made shooing motions up at her children. 

 

“Haven’t I told you a thousand times this evening that your dinner will be after we’ve had our meeting? Go back to your rooms until I call you down, for goodness sake!”

 

Though it was a summer evening, the library was cold and dark. The bookcases, that must once have been noble and varnished until gleaming, were strewn with thick spider webs. They were so tall they seemed to bend forward with their own weight; looming down towards the centre of the room in which some fusty furniture rested on a huge, Persian rug. Strange noises came from the heavy black drapes covering the draughty full length window, but Tonks only had eyes for one thing: a Phoenix stood on a table in the middle of the room. Its intelligent face regarded her as she admired its glorious red, orange and gold feathers. Though the presence of the magnificent bird was calming, Tonks felt slightly unnerved. She hadn’t anticipated any kind of formal ritual. It appeared that everyone knew what to do except her. Dumbledore stood facing her, one hand resting on the phoenix’s plumage. Kingsley came and stood on her left, Mad Eye on her right. 

 

“The Order of the Phoenix has been called together once more. Nymphadora Tonks - ”

 

Tonks flinched at the sound of her first name, but clamped her lips together, thinking _just this once_.

 

“ - you have volunteered to make a solemn commitment to honour this society; to keep its secrets; to protect its members; to fight its cause at mortal risk to your own life. Alastor Moody, you propose our new member this night - ”

 

“Aye” Growled Mad Eye.

 

“ - and Kingsley Shacklebolt, you second this decision - ”

 

“I do” Came the low boom of Kingsley.

 

“ - and all assembled, do we have your approval?”

 

The room in all its many voices assented, Sirius’ the loudest of all.

 

“Tonks” Dumbledore turned to her. 

 

“I’m ready” She said, tilting her chin up and trying to ignore the memory of some of the words spoken before dinner.

 

_…twisted, sadistic tricks…_

_…you could lose everything that matters to you…_

 

Then Fawkes made a cry. It was a single note, pure as glass, and a swelling, dancing fire began to fill the room, encircling her where she stood. As the flames rose around her and her heart began to pound, she turned her head and found herself meeting the eyes of Remus Lupin. He gave her a small smile of reassurance. She noticed how the golden glow of the fire brightened his face, softening its fine lines, illuminating a handsomeness she hadn’t noticed before. His eyes were deep, and steady, and kind. Though the flames licking her were cool, and the air in the library of 12 Grimmauld Place icy, she felt strangely warm.


	6. In Flight

**Chapter 5: In Flight**

 

“Nightcap?”

 

Sirius was sitting halfway up the staircase leading to Grimmauld Place’s upper floors, leaning gracefully against the curled wooden bannisters.

 

“Something tells me you won’t take no for an answer” Said Remus, having just returned from setting the library back in order. 

 

The ancient floorboards creaked as Remus got down beside Sirius and accepted a glass. They sat for a moment without speaking. There was a hush hanging over Grimmauld Place. The Order had left and the Weasleys were, either willingly or unwillingly, in bed upstairs. Fawkes had long departed, but the house seemed to hold some latent vestige of the phoenix fire - like a silent buzz, a strange vibration in the air. Kreacher passed the foot of the stairs, dragging his feet across the dusty carpet, lips moving in fervent whispers, seizing and crumbling a house spider between his long fingers. Sirius followed him with his eyes but, to Remus’ relief, did not try to engage the elf in one of their usual slanging matches.

 

“So what did you make of our new recruit, Moony?”

 

“I liked her” Said Remus simply in reply. “I think she’ll bring a lot of...energy” 

 

Even as he was speaking them, the words felt strangely flat. A little inadequate. 

 

“Yeah. Plenty of mad energy” Said Sirius. “With a healthy dose of insubordination” 

 

Sirius took a mouthful of whisky, swilled it thoughtfully, then swallowed with a gulp.

 

“She’s nothing like Andromeda” He said. “‘Dromeda was always my favourite cousin growing up - not difficult considering the others are maniacal death-eater loving freaks as you know - but she wasn’t exactly _fun_. Quite prim and proper. A little aloof. It was a massive surprise when she went off with that Ted Tonks, to be honest” 

 

“Opposites attract?” Remus suggested.

 

“I guess” Sirius shrugged “She must have had some rebellious spirit to have done that. I bet she despises that pink hair though” 

 

“Mmm” Remus said absently, staring down into his own drink. Once more, the right words didn’t quite come to him. He felt a little dazed. The usual werewolf exhaustion, he supposed. Sirius cocked his head at Remus and considered him for a moment, before reaching out a hand to ruffle his thick, greying hair. 

 

“Maybe you should consider it for yourself, mate! I’m not sure this librarian look is working for you”

 

“You’ve had too much whisky, Padfoot” Said Remus, bumping him away with his shoulder. 

 

“No such thing” Said Sirius, clinking Remus’ glass. 

————————-

 

Barely a week later, Remus and Tonks sat back-to-back in the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The pair of them had made short work of sneaking into the vast estate as part of their first mission together. Concealed in a disillusionment charm bubble, they had prowled the perimeter and used surveying spells to reveal a weak point in Lucius Malfoy’s anti-intruder jinxes. 

 

“Complacent bastard” Tonks had said with triumph, as she skilfully manipulated the invisible barriers to let them enter. 

 

They crept across the pristinely manicured gardens, following a pre-studied route, until they reached the Malfoy’s topiary garden. Just as they knew there would be, there was an enormous box hedge pruned in the shape of a great serpent facing the East Wing of the Malfoy Manor - where Lucius Malfoy’s study was located. Cutting a hole in the serpent’s belly, they climbed in and readied themselves for a day of surveillance. During the planning phase, when it had become obvious that the best spying strategy was to hide in close quarters, Remus had subtly attempted to find another member of the Order to take his place, but Sirius - now master of the mission rota - had raised his eyebrows and told him plainly that no one else was available to do it. Being stuck in a small space with a werewolf was a daunting prospect for even the most liberal witch or wizard and Remus felt anxious about how Tonks would feel. But Tonks had been as chatty and bright-spirited as ever. It soon became clear that, if she felt even a jot of discomfort at the arrangement, she was an exceedingly good actress. 

 

Remus looked outwards over the grounds to keep guard, whilst Tonks faced the house. She cheerfully wiggled into a comfortable position before taking a small, golden telescope from her robes. It was an object she had affectionally nicknamed the Moody-le-scope: it looked just like a normal telescope, but it had a tiny, electric blue eye at one end of it. Designed by Mad Eye during the first war, it was a precursor to his most famous magical ocular accessory: able to pierce through brick walls, magical disguises and invisibility cloaks. Though it weighed a ton and, if squeezed too tightly, produced strange clouds of purple smoke, it was perfect for recording exactly who was visiting Lucius Malfoy. In the first four hours, they saw Walden Macnair, Cabot Avery and a Secretary from the Goblin Liaison Office.  
 

“Malfoy’s schedule is chockablock today” Said Tonks. 

 

“I daresay it’s a busy life being both Voldemort’s right hand man and master manipulator at the Ministry” Said Remus. 

 

“Yeah, I bet he’s in need of a holiday. I know this charming little ocean retreat in the middle of the North Sea that I’d love to send him to…” Remus couldn’t see Tonks’ face but he could easily picture the smirk she was wearing. “Oh - who’s this coming up now?” 

 

Remus looked swiftly over his shoulder and past Tonks through the tiny gap in the leaves and back again. A thin, lanky man with a scrubby blond beard was heading up the path to the manor door. 

 

“I know him!” Said Tonks. 

 

“He works at the ministry?”

 

“Yeah! He’s this creep who works in the postal department. Johnson…or Johnstone…something like that. He got plastered at the last Christmas party - ended up putting his hand on my waist and asking me exactly how big I could morph my tits”

 

Tonks must have sensed Remus gritting his teeth, because she laughed and continued:

 

“Don’t worry. They found him at the end of the night…a tiny, neon pink hedgehog…cowering amongst some empty butterbeer bottles. HR gave him a warning. He avoids me at all costs now”

 

“Well, he certainly sounds like the kind of low life who’d be easily corrupted by the likes of Lucius Malfoy” Said Remus dryly.

 

Tonks leant forward slightly. The Moody-le-scope whistled softly.

 

“Blimey, that Gringotts cheque has a lot of zeros on the end of it. That’s one hell of a bribe” She said. 

 

“I suppose this means letters are being intercepted by the Ministry and the Death Eaters now. Unpleasant news, but no surprise” Said Remus.

 

A few minutes later, the blond-bearded man left the manor. Tonks gave an exaggerated sigh.

 

“I know we have no authority, but I really wish we could swoop in and nab him right now” She said.

 

“We’ll get him eventually. He’s on our radar now at least. Accepting money from Lucius Malfoy is a slippery slope. The Death Eaters are good at luring people in gently. One day, it’s taking a bribe for a small favour. The next, it’s taking a bribe in return for slipping them the information they need to murder a target. Before they know it, they’re the ones doing the murdering under threat of blackmail and, by that point, it’s far too late to wriggle out”

 

“Very astute. That’s what Hermione called you the other day, astute. The kids are always singing your praises, you know. Best Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor they’ve ever had and all that”

 

A foolish swell of happiness rose in Remus’ chest at this unexpected remark, but it was quickly quashed by a familiar shame remembering the unforgivable mistake he made on the night of his reunion with Sirius. Teaching at Hogwarts was a blessing he hadn’t deserved.  

 

“If I was the best of a dodgy bunch, that’s not much to be proud of” 

 

They watched the house for a little longer, but no one else approached. Eventually, the sky began to grow dark.

 

“Right. Sundown. That means Lucius and Narcissa will be getting ready for Fudge’s Summer Garden Party and we can be off” Tonks said, stretching her arms above her head. 

 

“Didn’t you merit an invite?”

 

“Ha! No. Fudge doesn’t invite grunt-level Aurors like me to his annual soiree. I’d probably end up drinking too much champagne and jumping in the duck pond anyway”

 

“No comment” Said Remus, failing to suppress a smile at this image. 

 

They clambered out of the topiary serpent and repaired the hole they’d made. Remus’ limbs felt horribly stiff as he cast a new disillusionment bubble around them. 

 

“Alright, let’s send a patronus to Sturgis - tell him we’re on our way to the exit point” Said Tonks.

 

“You go ahead” Said Remus. 

 

A bouncing, silver jack rabbit erupted from the end of Tonks’ wand. Remus watched it appreciatively as it gambolled around in a merry circle, before vanishing into the gloom. Tonks gave him a shrewd look. 

 

“I find it hard to believe that you of all people can’t produce a corporeal patronus. Aren’t you the one who taught Harry?” She said.

 

Remus sighed. Tonks had an uncanny ability to identify uncomfortable subtext and give it a poke. It took a little bit of getting used to. Her constant switching between playfulness, professionalism and well-meaning interrogation seemed to constantly catch him off guard. Still, awkward questions aside, none of the missions he’d been on so far - whether with Hestia, Arthur, Molly or anyone else - had been nearly as fun as this one.

 

“I can produce a corporeal patronus” He said. “But…I prefer not to”

 

“Why’s that?” 

 

“I don’t much care for the form it takes”

 

“What form does it take?” 

 

“What do you think?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

 

Embarrassment passed over Tonks’ heart-shaped face, but she quickly recovered and spoke in conspiratorial tones. “Oh I see…having a duck-billed platypus for a patronus is rather humiliating”

 

Remus laughed and shook his head in mock exasperation. 

 

“I’m sorry!” Tonks cried, laughing too. “One day I’ll refrain from shoving my foot inside my mouth and following it up with rubbish jokes, I promise!” She dug a friendly elbow into his ribs. “Aren’t you glad you got paired up with me, Lupin?”

 

“I’m considering surrendering myself to that charming North Sea resort you mentioned”

 

Tonks took the Moody-le-scope back out of her robes and fired two big puffs of purple smoke at him. 

 

———————-

 

Though Sirius’ moods could swing from light to dark as fast as Tonks’ hair could from crimson to teal, he was a little easier whenever his brand new first-cousin-once-removed was around. It gave Remus a quiet joy to see them getting closer; for Sirius to have the chance of forging something new and untarnished by the past. He tried to absent himself so they could enjoy proper time together but, whenever they heard him coming down the stairs or passing by the door, there’d be an “Oi!” and he’d be beckoned in to join them. Despite Tonks’ mammoth schedule (split as she was between Order and Ministry) and Remus’ own assignments across the country, somehow the three of them still managed to end up - sometimes with a Weasley or two - laughing and telling stories over mugs of tea or bottles of beer.

 

Remus started to look forward to the sound of two Doc Martins flying off a pair of feet and hitting the hallway wall. Tonks would bound into the drawing room and flop onto the sofa, curling her legs under her, mismatched socks on her feet. She’d perform accomplished impressions of her co-workers and all assembled would agree that, yes, Dawlish sounded like a tosser or that the uniform regulations should, absolutely, be totally overhauled. Remus and Sirius would recount various Hogwarts misadventures, with Tonks demanding every detail as to how Sirius ended up naked in the pumpkin patch on Christmas Day and comparing their most outlandish excuses for being late to Herbology. Though any questions about the first war made Sirius retreat into himself until Remus was required to change the subject, the atmosphere generally became one of steady optimism. The Order felt small, but strong. And whether it was her absolute openness, or how easily the three of them had slipped into this routine, there was something about Tonks that made Remus start to feel as if they’d known her for years.

 

The moon waxed and the inevitable came. With Hermione and the Weasleys living at Grimmauld Place, Remus insisted on returning to his cottage in Yorkshire to transform. Crossing the threshold there felt like stepping back into the past and, once the worst was over, he found himself eager to return to his gloomy new home. After apparating back to Islington and letting himself into the house, he heard the faint sound of voices coming from the library. As he made his achey way down the corridor, his arms wrapped tightly around his delicate body, the voices rose into shouting. 

 

“Harry deserves REAL answers! This is a joke. Where the _hell_ is Dumbledore?”

 

Sirius was pacing the room, gesticulating furiously. Molly, Arthur, Kingsley, Tonks and Mad Eye stood in various poses of worry. Ron, Hermione, the twins and Ginny were attempting to pacify Hedwig who was flapping her snow-white wings and pecking any bit of exposed skin her beak could reach. 

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Harry’s been expelled! Well, suspended” Said Ron. “They’re making him to go to a Ministry hearing because he fought some Dementors. _Ouch_ …Hedwig…gerroff!” 

 

“Dementors? In Surrey?”

 

Arthur stepped forward and explained the full situation. 

 

“Thank goodness Harry knows how to do a patronus” Said Molly, breathily, with a grateful look at Remus. 

 

“Dumbledore says we can’t get Harry out tonight. We have to leave him there for four nights” Sirius raged. “He’s going to be trapped _four fucking nights_ in that Muggle hellhole!” 

 

“I don’t like it either, Sirius, but Dumbledore will have his reasons” Said Molly, red patches on her cheeks. “And if he thinks that’s the safest thing for Harry, then - ” 

 

“I could go as a dog to Surrey tonight and - ”

 

“As your arresting Auror, I strongly advise against it” Said Kingsley, in his slow and calm voice. “We need to develop a plan, according to Dumbledore’s wishes”

 

“The muggles are a bloody security risk” Said Mad Eye, with a swig from his hip flask. “We can’t have them there when we arrive”.

 

“So we need to think of some way to get them out of the house. And agree on the best way of removing Harry and bringing him here to Headquarters in four nights time” Said Kingsley.

 

Hermione flung herself on the bookcase, as if it was magnetic, muttering under her breath about Displacement Charms; Ron, his fingers bleeding, looked mutinous and suggested locking the Dursleys in their cupboard under the stairs; the twins suggested floo powder with an evil grin at their father who did not return it; Sirius continued his walk up and down the room as if looking for something to kick. Remus tried to think, but it was hard to focus. His head was pounding and his recently salved wounds were throbbing beneath their bandages.

 

“The muggles…” Tonks was tapping her chin thoughtfully. Remus’ eyes flicked towards her - she had been uncharacteristically quiet so far. “They have an immaculate lawn don’t they…I noticed during my shifts watching Harry…freakishly immaculate, you could say”

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Snarled Sirius.

 

Tonks’ face was frozen in an attitude of scrunched-up thought, as if she was about to morph, then she began sprinting to the other side of the room, running up and over a velvet armchair which tipped to the floor. Seizing a piece of parchment and quill from the writing desk, she began to scribble. Arthur looked over her shoulder in confusion, but soon he was chuckling.

 

“That’s very good” He was saying, following her words as she wrote. “Oh really, that _is_ rather good! Muggles simply love their lawns and their gardening competitions and such don’t they? That will certainly get Vernon and Petunia Dursley out of the house!”

 

Tonks flourished the parchment and gave it a tap with her wand. It transfigured into bright white paper and her handwriting became the neat, square letters of muggle computers. 

 

“What do you reckon, Moony?” She handed it to him, her fingers brushing his slightly, her dark blue eyes dancing. 

 

It was odd hearing his old nickname in her mouth, but he found that he didn’t mind. Remus looked at the letter and read out its first line:

 

_We are honoured to inform you that you have been shortlisted for the All-England-Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition._

 

Laughter filled the library. 

 

“Oh, this will definitely work” Said Remus, smiling. “But where will the address in the corner actually take them to?”

 

“Oh, that’s just a nice little bit of information I happen to know…” Said Tonks. “The Royal Tunbridge Wells Association of Amateur Magicians” 

 

Even Sirius had to admit it was perfect.

 

————————

 

“Don’t even think about it you two” Said Mad Eye, bearing his teeth at Fred and George, who had squeezed through the upstairs window onto the roof where the Advance Guard were assembled.

 

The twins were clutching broomsticks in one hand and beater bats in the other but, after a little theatrical grumbling, they eventually retreated with good grace. Mad Eye began to recite the flight plan though, after four days of intensive planning, Remus felt pretty confident that the team could have flown it in their sleep. Nevertheless, Mad Eye recited the minute details of their strategy rationale. They were flying because it was dubbed too risky to apparate en masse, Mrs Figg believed her floo was being watched and muggle transportation left them too vulnerable to attack. He then reminded them of the various gruesome ways in which they might each be killed during the journey. Dedalus Diggle began to fiddle with his hat. Hestia Jones pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. The horizon burned orange before dimming into inky blue. They all stood in formation. Except, of course, Sirius. He leant against the wall closest to Remus. 

 

“I should be going with you” He said. 

 

His voice was low and listless. There was a broomstick in one of his hands and he held it out to Remus.

 

“Here. Take this. It was last ridden by Regulus a bloody century ago but it’s still better than the glorified twig you’ve got there” 

 

Remus dutifully made the swap. As they did so, Sirius leaned forward and hissed into Remus’ ear. 

 

“They can’t keep me locked in here forever”

 

Remus felt a chill. 

 

“I know…” He began, softly. 

 

Sirius’ second incarceration weighed heavily on his mind, but he could see no alternative with Peter hidden away with the Death Eaters and Fudge the way he was. 

 

“It’s not what I want for you, Padfoot. But we’ve got to - ”

 

“Trust Dumbledore?” Said Sirius, bitterly. “How did I know you were going to say that?” 

 

Sirius closed his eyes for a second and a muscle moved in his jaw, as if he was about to start shouting. But when he opened them again, he looked tired and resigned.

 

“Bring him back in one piece, wont you?”

 

“I promise we will”

 

Sirius nodded, gave a tight smile, then turned away. There was a knot in Remus’ stomach as he watched him transform into a dog and climb back into the house.

 

“Alright. We’ve just got the all-clear. Prepare yourselves!” Barked Mad Eye. 

 

They all mounted their brooms. 

 

“Can’t wait to finally meet Harry!!” Said Tonks in a loud whisper, she was bobbing on her heels and turning to look round at Remus from her position at the front of the formation.

 

Remus felt excitement welling in him at the sight of her smiling face. He was looking forward to seeing Harry too. The guilt and foreboding that had sprung out of his exchange with Sirius began to ebb. Godfather and son would be reunited soon.

 

“Now!” Mad Eye growled. 

 

Remus’ heels pushed down hard on the roof and he propelled himself upwards. Flying had usually been a means to an end for him - he’d never had anything close to the breathtaking talent of James - but the rush of speed as he shot right up and above the clouds gave him a heady rush of adrenaline. As they headed south-west, as deliberate as arrows, Remus looked around at his fellow flyers, and felt a burst of elation to be one of their number.

 

His eyes found Tonks ahead of him, leading the pack. He noticed immediately that she was a good flyer, as he had expected she would be. Her hair - short, spiky and violet - was ruffling wildly in the wind. She twirled and loop-the-looped in her position until Mad Eye yelled over the wind “Knock it off, Tonks!”  Laughing, she looked back and, though the sky was darkening and streams of clouds zipped past them, their eyes managed to meet. It was only for a split second but something flickered in Remus’ stomach as he looked back at her - his kind, mercurial, ridiculous new friend - marvelling at her unfettered joy; how her face glowed with the love of the flight. They had flown as far as Putney before Remus realised, with a jolt that felt like electricity in his bones, that he hadn’t once taken his eyes off her. 


	7. Down in the Cellar

**Chapter 6: Down in the Cellar**

 

Tonks woke slowly and languorously, wriggling beneath the warm blanket that was covering her as the details of a dream, that had just been so vivid, began to slip out of her memory like sand. Her limbs felt deliciously heavy. She wasn’t ready to open her eyes just yet. 

 

_Cosy as a poffle of pygmy puffs_ , she thought.

 

As a sleepy smile spread across her face, she realised that the fabric it was pressed against wasn’t her own pillow. It had the texture of velvet and was imbued with a faint, slightly musty, smell. With a stiff neck, Tonks raised her head and blinked into view the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place. 

 

_Oops._  

 

She rubbed her eyes. A picture of the previous night started to stitch itself together. She’d been on a late reconnaissance mission down in Brighton, then had apparated to Headquarters hoping to find Sirius and Remus still awake for one of their usual chinwags. But, on finding the place dead quiet, all the exhaustion she’d been suppressing had hit her with the force of a rampaging graphorn. Living a double life was taking its toll and (though it was a metamorphmagus’ privilege not to look it) she was, as Nana Tonks would say, cream crackered. She’d plopped down on the sofa intending to merely rest her eyes but, clearly, it had turned into an impromptu sleepover. 

 

Tonks pushed herself up into a sitting position. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room - the face of which displayed the moniker Toujours Impur in bright pink lettering, the result of one memorable afternoon of defacement with Sirius - told her it was seven in the morning. She sighed in relief: at least she wasn’t going to be late for work. Tonks rolled her aching shoulders and the blanket slipped off. She fingered the dark green wool. It was old but so soft to the touch she knew it couldn’t be native to Grimmauld Place. She didn’t remember it being there when she’d curled up to ‘rest her eyes’ - where had it come from? Her question was answered when, looking to her left, she saw a hot, steaming cup of tea waiting for her atop a side table. She smiled as she picked it up and held the magically preserved, perfectly drinking temperature mug just below her chin. She closed her eyes, enjoying the calming effect of the steam of her face.

 

“…the daughter of the mudblood sleeping in my poor mistress’ house, oh how she would howl if she knew, a stain on the noble line of Black…”

 

Tonks’ eyes flicked open again. “Morning, Kreacher” 

 

“…the mudblood spawn glories in her unnaturalness, but how could she compare to Miss Bella, a true daughter of Black, Kreacher remembers how she used to…”

 

Tonks bit the rim of her mug and let the house elf shuffle past her and out of the room, taking his muttering with him. Every Auror of Tonks’ generation was told the story of Frank and Alice Longbottom. It was one of Mad Eye’s signature warning tales: that you could be the bravest, quickest, most talented fighter out there and still end up in a St Mungo’s incurable ward. She did her best to tolerate Kreacher, but the regular reminders that she had an Auror torturer for an aunt set her teeth on edge. Especially if that reminder came when she was trying to enjoy one of Remus Lupin’s divine cups of tea….

 

There was a polite knock at the door and Tonks’ irritation evaporated in an instant when she saw who it was.

 

“Morning, Moony! Thanks for the tea” 

 

Tonks raised the mug in a toast to Remus who was leaning against the doorway, dressed in a jumper that looked as if it had spent one too many evenings in the company of Crookshanks.

 

“That’s quite alright” He said, with a smile. “I got back from guard duty in the early hours and found you fast asleep in here”

 

“Oh Merlin, that can’t have been pretty. I am the world’s least elegant sleeper” Said Tonks. She put a hand to the back of her hair; her blond ringlets felt like a birds nest. “I hope the snoring didn’t scare you too much” 

 

“How do you think I found you in the first place?” Said Remus, with an almost imperceptible raise of one eyebrow. “I thought Sirius must have potted some honking daffodils in here so I came to investigate”

 

Tonks threw a cushion at him, which he dodged gracefully. 

 

“Seriously though, you don’t have to sleep down here. Now that summer’s over, there are plenty of spare bedrooms upstairs. Sirius and I could make you up a room - they’re meant for Order use after all”

 

“Yeah…but that would mean admitting that I’m now a total saddo with no life outside of work and the Order” Said Tonks. “I do have my own flat…although it’s in a right state, I admit. My owl keeps murdering small creatures and placing them in a neat pile on my pillow as revenge for my constant absence” 

 

“Mildred?”

 

“Yep. Mildred. She’s very judgmental, you see and….wait NO…” 

 

Tonks jumped to her feet, tea sloshing. 

 

“This is what always happens! I get chatting to you or Sirius and just never stop. I hope you know I hold the both of you responsible for my recent bout of narcolepsy” 

 

She straightened her crumpled robes as best she could and looked at Remus in mock-indignation.

 

“I’m going to go home, make myself presentable, and then stroll into the Ministry bright and early like the dedicated worker bee that I am”

 

“Of course. You’re the ideal employee” Said Remus, his eyes twinkling. “It’s time for me to drag Sirius out of bed anyway” 

 

“Yes, off you go - you’re far too distracting!” 

 

The playful words tumbled out before she’d quite had a chance to think them through. Something about the “you’re” sounded a little more… _singular_ than she’d intended. Remus glanced at the floor, but his smile didn’t fade. She noticed how his hair was slightly dishevelled from sleep; the pale brown melded with the bright silver. Her cheeks became a little hot. 

 

The truth was that his tendency to distraction wasn’t the only thing that Tonks noticed about Remus Lupin. There was the way that he almost always wore his sleeves right down to his wrists but, when they were rolled up at unguarded moments, a network of silver scars could be seen winding around them; just as they did on his neck and, in a faint delicate line, on one cheek. There was the way that he somehow knew the precise way to steady others’ emotions when they threatened to bubble over - whether it was Molly’s anxiety, Sirius’ rage, or even Mad Eye’s morbid nostalgia - whilst keeping his own neatly bottled up. Her favourite thing, though, was the way that - despite being universally regarded as ‘the sensible one’ - his grey eyes could brighten with a spirited glint of mischief when he was alone with just her and Sirius. Her new friend was full of subtle and intriguing contradictions. Like a wall she longed to scale.

 

“Have a good day, Tonks” 

 

“See you, mate”

 

——————-

 

“So I slapped the mother of all _Petrificus Totaluses_ on him and down he went on his arse. Fucking pathetic!”

 

Tonks was gripping her fork so hard beneath the table that her palm was throbbing, but her face was set in an expression of jovial amusement as Auror Duffie recited, for what felt like the hundredth time, the tale of his arrest of Sturgis Podmore. Further down the table, Tonks could see Kingsley taking a smooth sip from his pint. They were all out for a pub dinner to celebrate Halloween. Tonks used to love this staple of the Auror’s social calendar, but now even her favourite fish and chips from ‘The Krup and Crown’ put a bad taste in her mouth. 

 

To keep up appearances, Tonks had done one of her special morphs for the occasion. She had longed to do a phoenix theme - to have beaked her nose, made the texture of her hair feathery and made its colour a brilliant kaleidoscope of bright gold and blood red - but she knew the Dumbledore allusion would hardly go unnoticed. So she’d fashioned herself as a snowy owl instead. Just ten minutes at the mirror resulted in her sporting mustard yellow eyes with round black pupils, skin as pale as she could get it and bright white hair set in a spherical, speckled dome. The other Aurors cheered her arrival as they always did and, playing to the crowd, she’d done a jelly neck charm to swivel her head 360 degrees. It felt like a charade, but at least it kept Scrimgeour’s attention on her clownish appearance and off her schedule which she knew was getting fishier by the month.

 

“So, where were you last week?” Said Finlay Savage. 

 

“Ughm?” Tonks replied, mouth full of chips. 

 

She already didn’t like where this was going. Finlay was sitting beside her, looking keenly into her face. 

 

“What did I miss?”

 

“The pub quiz! I told you about it during that raid over in Ealing, remember?” 

 

“Right! Ah, I would have loved to but I had to go see my mum that night. Small bout of dragon pox, you know” 

 

Lying was coming easier and easier these days. On that particular night, she’d actually been with Sirius and Remus. It hadn’t been long after Harry’s return to Hogwarts; a day that had plunged Sirius into the deepest blues she’d yet seen him in. To coax him out of his dark place, they’d raided his old music collection. It had taken Tonks’ best Severus Snape morph and a few choice dance moves to finally summon a real laugh out of her cousin (Remus, however, had covered his eyes in horror). 

 

“Sure, sure. And the month before that?” 

 

Finlay’s tone was light and teasing, but Tonks could swear Scrimgeour’s great lion-like head tilted slightly in their direction. 

 

“I know I’ve been rubbish, mate. I’m sorry. Things have just been mental, what with the Black investigation and - ” 

 

“Oh come on, Tonks! Admit it” Said Finlay, digging an elbow into her ribs. “You’ve got some new boyfriend, right?”

 

“No, I bloody well don’t!” Tonks laughed, a little too loudly, in relief. “You know me, Finlay - proud singleton” 

 

“Yeah? So how do you explain the staring wistfully into space, the secretive little outings after work…?”

 

Tonks felt slightly disturbed by Finlay’s observational skills. She wondered whether it would have been better to lie - a fake boyfriend could certainly come in handy - but at least Scrimgeour seemed to have now tuned out from their conversation.

 

“You’re imagining things, mate” Said Tonks, taking a big gulp from her pint. 

 

“Alright, alright. I’m just saying…we miss having you around” 

 

Tonks managed to shrug this off as casually as she could, but quickly directed the conversation back to safer territory. As she did so, she considered whether there was any part of her that did miss her old life. When Tonks first moved to London, she had thrown herself headfirst into her new role at the Ministry; determined to prove that she could work - and play - harder than any of the new recruits. The world of the Aurors was her first taste of real comradery - of real dedication. It had been her everything for six whole years. But what did it mean to her now? The Auror Office wasn’t the bastion of righteous action she used to believe it would be. Cornelius Fudge was treating them like glorified lackeys: propping up his status quo; allowing the oppressions and corruptions of Wizarding society to fester and spread; sitting like ducks at a Halloween meal whilst the Death Eaters busied themselves in the shadows.

 

She managed to play her part adequately for the rest of the dinner - laughing, morphing silly noses, bitching about Dumbledore - but she snuck away as early as she could. There would be no after party for her this year. Outside the pub, it was a blustery night but the streets of Soho were packed with revellers. 

 

“Awesome!”

 

A muggle, dressed in a beer-stained pumpkin outfit, pointed in awe at her face. She’d forgotten to undo her morph before going out in public. 

 

“Cheers!” 

 

She gave him a jaunty thumbs up and kept on walking. If there was any night of the year she could get away with, it was tonight. She meandered through the crowds, keeping an eye out for a quiet alleyway in which she could apparate back to her flat. Her search proved in vain. Whether it was some bloke having a piss or some couple getting friendly, each little street was occupied. A notion of Grimmauld Place began to float into her head, but she shoved it back out again. There was a stack of owl post laying on her own windowsill that she’d neglected for far too long.

 

_Seriously though, you don’t have to sleep down here._

 

Remus’ soft voice echoed in her memory just as a spot of rain landed gently on her white fuzz of hair. She shook her head and hugged her arms around herself. She was going to catch the muggle tube back to her flat. Her mind was made up. Still, her imagination kept offering up alternatives. Even as she found herself jostling back and forward in a tightly-packed carriage as it barrelled beneath the city, she pictured herself waking up in a different bed to her own. The precise image of Remus, smiling at her, his hair dishevelled from sleep, hurtled into her mind. He wasn’t standing in a doorway this time, he was much, much closer. With this came a startling sensation; it felt as if an invisible finger were stroking up the inside of her stomach. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed, lost to her surroundings. It took her a few minutes to realise that she had missed her stop. 

 

————————

 

Tonks’ next proper day off wasn’t until weeks later. It was her dad’s birthday and she had plans to take him to his favourite greasy spoon in Bethnal Green for a late breakfast. But she couldn’t resist stopping off at headquarters first. Tonks half-skipped up the front steps, something concealed inside her denim jacket. Commending herself on her uncharacteristically subtle entrance, she stepped around her nemesis (the troll leg umbrella stand) and headed down the familiar corridor. The library was empty. So too was the drawing room. She trotted downstairs to the kitchen. Deserted. She noticed then that the house felt even more eerily silent than usual. Ten o’clock on a Saturday morning usually played host to a variety of Order members. Perhaps Remus and Sirius were sleeping in? Tonks hesitated. Barging into their rooms seemed a little too bold, even for her. 

 

At that moment, she heard fast footsteps descending through the house. Sirius careened into the kitchen, almost bumping right into her. 

 

“Tonks!” He said, springing back. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Err” 

 

She was a little taken aback by his reaction. She was always popping round.

 

“I’ve got a day off! I’m gonna meet my dad in a bit but I thought I’d stop by - I haven’t seen you guys in a while, so…” 

 

Tonks pulled a bunch of honking daffodils out of her jacket pocket and Sirius, mouth slightly open, stared at them. 

 

“These are for Remus. Honking daffodils! We had a silly joke about them the other week. Is he around?”

 

Sirius was giving her an exceedingly strange look. Tonks felt awkward. It sounded stupid when she said it out loud.

 

“He’s upstairs” Sirius said, slowly. “But he’s - er - incapacitated. Bad case of the werewolves. You know it was full moon last night, right?”

 

“Oh. Bugger” Said Tonks.

 

Sirius snorted, shaking his head. 

 

“I totally forgot!” She cried. 

 

“It’s alright” Said Sirius, patting her arm as he walked past her. “At least you didn’t turn up last night. Moony’s very particular about anyone being in the same house as him during full moon. Ten werewolves wouldn’t be able to get past the barricade charms we set on his transformation room, but it’s still only meant to be me here. I could have sworn I mentioned that to you ages - ”

 

“Yeah…you did…I’m just an idiot” 

 

Sirius was rummaging in the kitchen cabinets. 

 

“What’re you - ”

 

“Moony managed to catch an artery last night” He said, tugging reams of bandages bearing the crest of St Mungo’s out of a drawer. “He’s a bit of a mess this morning” 

 

“ _What?_ Shit, that sounds bad!” 

 

Sirius was now heading back out of the kitchen. Tonks hurried after him. 

 

“Do you need any help?” She said, urgently. “I’ve got Blood Loss Treatment Level 5 and Creature Attacks Level - ”

 

“No!” 

 

Sirius stopped and wheeled around to face her. Catching sight of her face, he spoke again more gently:

 

“No need. We’re all sorted” He held up the bandages. “These are just spares. Don’t worry…it’s not my first time taking care of him” 

 

“I could...just come say hi though? Help you cheer him up?”

 

“Best not” Said Sirius. 

 

An odd, heavy pause hung between them. After a beat, Sirius mustered another smile. 

 

“See you on Thursday for the meeting though? I’m going to try my hand at Spag Bol” 

 

“Great, yeah” Said Tonks, trying and failing to inject enthusiasm into her defeated tone. 

 

Sirius started leaping back up the stairs again. 

 

“It’s like bloody care of magical creatures in this house sometimes!” He called down. 

 

Tonks forced a chuckle but, despite Sirius’ parting joke, there was an undeniable mournfulness to the atmosphere of the house that morning. The sound of Sirius’ feet faded as he climbed further and further up from where she stood. A door opened and closed somewhere near the top of the house. Tonks traipsed back into the kitchen, wondering how in the hell she could be such a bloody fool. She put the honking daffodils into water and a vase. They brayed and wheezed as their yellow heads bumped together. Maybe they’d make Remus smile. She hoped so. 

 

As she turned to leave, she caught sight of something she’d never noticed before in the corner of the room: a tiny door, slightly ajar. It was the exact shade of dark wood as the wall around it, so it had hitherto always been camouflaged in the dim light of the kitchen. She stared at it. She knew she ought to go back upstairs; ought to walk out of the front door and apparate to Bethnal Green to meet her dad. But her feet carried her closer. As she approached she could see that behind the door there were stairs, leading down into a murky gloom. Though the rational side of her brain was attempting to warn her that this was a bad idea, it was smothered by curiosity; by the pull of the deep darkness she hadn’t even known was there. Stooping slightly, she crossed the threshold and began to descend the uneven stone steps. The temperature immediately dipped. The air felt dank and freezing. It was wet underfoot and, as she slipped on her heels down the final few steps, she seized a rotten section of ancient bannister. It felt wet too. She lit her wand. 

 

Blood. Blood on the floor, the stairs, on her own hand where she’d touched the rail, in a pool around her shoes. The walls of the cellar were marked by slashes, as if the blows had tried to rip the very stone apart, and half-destroyed the claws that did so. What must have once been wine crates looked as if they'd been blown up; hunks of wood lay scattered around the bloodied floor. There was an overwhelming metallic tang in her nostrils. She shivered. Why had she come here? What else had she expected? But something about this room, this _hole_ in the very bowels of Grimmauld Place, was worse than she could have imagined. It wasn’t the gore that shocked her. It was the thought of Remus coming here. Remus - her new friend with the kind eyes who made her mugs of tea to wake up to - _Remus_ coming here alone and on the precipice of an agony that she couldn’t imagine - that, until this moment, she hadn’t even properly _tried_ to imagine. It was the loneliest place she’d ever been. Her heart flared with a feeling she could barely understand; something like longing, something close to pain, something that made her want to smash apart the layers of floors above that separated them. But all she could do that morning was back out of the wine cellar, vanish the blood from her clothes and leave 12 Grimmauld Place as quietly as she could. She would never forget another full moon. 


	8. The Scally Wizzbee

**Chapter 7: The Scally Wizzbee**

 

“We’re making a few changes around here” 

 

Remus sat, hands neatly folded in his lap, trying not to look at Nymphadora Tonks. Her hair was green today, scrambled up in a bun, with curly strands framing her face. He focused instead on Mad Eye, who was stood in his customary position at the head of the table; leering forward to address the room and growling at them through the scarred slit of his mouth. 

 

“We can’t have another cock-up like Jones apparating to Upton Snodsbury instead of Chipping Sodbury. The Protean Charm’s good for the basics but too hard to read in the heat of the moment. Patronuses broadcast their messages to anyone in earshot. We’ve been sorely lacking a third option. Sirius?” 

 

Moody gestured to Sirius who lazily tapped his wand on the table. A stack of what looked like picture frames landed in front of him with an unceremonious clatter. Each one was smaller than a book and, on closer inspection, displayed a different scowling face.

 

“Portraits” Said Sirius, in disinterested tones. “We’ve made copies of my most obliging ancestors and charmed them so they can only be heard by people who’ve been initiated into the Order. I had the pleasure of interviewing each and every portrait in this godforsaken place and this wretched bunch are the only ones who’ll cooperate with us” 

 

On the rare occasions that Remus had been at Grimmauld Place at a sociable hour over the preceding weeks, he’d noticed that these ‘interviews’ seemed to have involved a significant amount of shouting. But then, Sirius didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to patience with paintings. Sirius began throwing the miniatures around the table, causing a chorus of complaints and protestations from the pile. 

 

“No! Not the werewolf! Please!” Shrieked Remus’ new messenger: a man sat at a piano-forte in an elaborate powdered wig. “Oh, I can’t bear it! How dare - ” 

 

Remus tucked the miniature into his robes, muffling the protestations. 

 

“Mine hasn’t even bothered to show up” Said Tonks, giving hers a little shake. 

 

“Mine’s asleep” Said Bill, giving the portly Victorian in his frame a poke with his finger.

 

“I said they’d _cooperate,_ I didn’t say they were thrilled about it” Muttered Sirius. 

 

Remus cast a sideways glance at him, recognising all too well the signs that Sirius was walking a tightrope between irritation and biting someone's head off. The news that Harry had started an illegal defence group had sent Sirius into an ecstasy of pride which had soon faded into a deeper funk of frustration. And with Dumbledore sending Remus on more and more missions away, the two of them had become like ships in the night. 

 

“I’m sure they’ll prove effective. Thank you for your efforts, Sirius” Said Kingsley.

 

Sirius looked back at Kingsley almost suspiciously, as if inspecting the Senior Auror’s face for any evidence that he was being patronised. 

 

“The next best thing to muggle portable telephones!” Said Arthur, one knee jiggling merrily. “If only we could - ”

 

Mad Eye rapped the table.

 

“Next item. Tonks! Lupin! I’m putting you both on call. Mundungus has noticed a lot of chatter about the docks”

 

Mundungus made a grunt of assent, sending an invisible cloud of brandy and tobacco wafting around the table. 

 

“It sounds as if the Death Eaters are planning on bringing in some kind of cargo. Whether human or creature or worse, we don’t know. As soon as you receive the message, you’re to apparate immediately to the coordinates we give you. Record what you can. Disrupt and intercept if you get the chance”

 

Remus nodded and he saw Tonks do the same out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Good” Said Mad Eye, gruffly. “You’ve worked well together on these kinds of missions so far” 

 

Remus fought to keep his face looking neutral, battling against a rush of pride that was alarmingly close to joy at these words. This was a dangerous mission, he chided himself. Not a jaunt. But any chance to spend time with Tonks seemed to have the power to send him into a tailspin of excitement. He had to get it under control. Tonks, of course, had no such struggle. She grinned at him and leant forward to demand a high five. When Remus sat back again, he noticed Sirius. His dark eyes were flicking between the two of them, no longer surly but with a strange look of interest. Remus held the mild expression on his own face as still as stone, despite feeling like the floor beneath his chair had suddenly given way. 

 

————

 

It only took a few days for the call to come. Remus’ new portrait messenger, in quavering cut-glass tones, delivered his instructions and Remus apparated immediately.

 

“I swear, if Great-Great-Great Aunt Griselda calls me Nymphadora one more time I’m going to pull a Sirius on her” Came a low mutter in Remus’ ear once he’d materialised by her side. “So…the Death Eaters…some kind of delivery?”

 

“And we’re here to bear witness. To stop it if we can”

 

They looked around: they were amongst a vast yard of shipping containers, extending as far as their eyes could see in a maze of colourful, metallic boxes. The sky above them was an ominous grey. They pulled out their wands. Remus noticed Tonks’ body language; tense and measured, the quintessential Auror tracker. Nothing like her usual bouncing self. He felt wary too. There was something about the environment that didn’t feel quite right. It was too easy for them to be taken by surprise here, too close to it being a trap. 

 

“Let’s move” Tonks whispered, pulling Mad Eye’s invisibility cloak out of her robes and spreading it over them both. 

 

They began to stalk along the gaps between the containers, eyes and ears trained for any sign of movement. As time passed, Remus’ uneasiness grew. Tonks’ cautious tread and the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped her wand told him that she felt the same. 

   
A shrill cry split the air, causing them both to jump. “NYMPHADORA!” 

 

“What the fuck, Griselda?” Tonks hissed furiously, rummaging in her robe pocket. “What is it now?”

 

“I’ve been asked to inform you that you can abort the mission. It’s a false alarm. And don’t you swear at _me_ , young lady!”

 

“A false alarm? Are they sure? Did Headquarters tell you this?” Said Remus.

 

Great-Great-Great Aunt Grisdela recoiled behind her snake-embroidered fan at the sight of him and said nothing. Tonks gave her a flick with her fingers.

 

“Don’t ignore Remus like that! _Are they sure_?”

 

“Yes. The sneak thief got it all muddled up. A red herring”

 

Remus was about to demand further explanation; not quite ready to abandon the paranoia wrought by their short time in the shipping yard, but Tonks elbowed him and pointed.

 

“You’ve got to be _joking_ ” She said, clapping a hand to her head. 

 

A lorry was pulling into a checkpoint on a road set above the shipping yard. Remus read the name on its side out loud. 

 

“De Thieters” 

 

“Mundungus is such a dingbat” Said Tonks, pulling the invisibility cloak off them. “I know Mad Eye doesn’t want any stone unturned but _why_ do we keep taking Mundungus’ tips seriously? The man’s off his face half the bloody time!” 

 

Though she shook her head, her body language relaxed. Gone was the taut, watchful tread of the Auror; she was loose and expressive once more.

 

“So, what now?” She said, turning to Remus. 

 

“Well…I suppose I’m released for the afternoon. You’ll be returning to the Auror Office I presume?”

 

“Nope. Kingsley spun a right yarn about having to send me to Dublin at the very last minute so I could come and watch this so-called Death Eater delivery with you. I guess I’ve got a free afternoon ahead of me too…”

 

She crossed her arms across her chest and looked him in the face. Remus felt a bizarre wave of panic. One wild part of him wanted to ask her to spend the rest of the day with him; to come up with some fun and quirky idea that would make her smile. But the rational part of his brain knew that spending time with a greying werewolf - especially when time off was like golddust these days - must be at the very bottom of her priorities.

 

“I have an idea” She said, mouth curving into a smile. 

 

“Oh?” Said Remus. 

 

“Know any good pubs?”  
 

Remus felt a sudden rush of joy, even more intense than the one he felt at the last Order meeting. A flurry of rational excuses rose up to try and quench it - he should keep Sirius company, he should volunteer for a different mission, he should catch up on sleep - but the deep blue gaze of her eyes, challenging and so very alive, wiped them clean away. 

 

“I do as it happens” 

 

“Well then” Said Tonks, threading her arm through his. “Side-along me?”

 

The Scally Wizzbee was a good pub for anyone who didn’t want to get recognised. Located on a wizard-only island in a remote Scottish archipelago, it could have fit five times into the Hogwarts’ Great Hall. The owner was blind - rumour had it from a duel back in the days of Grindelwald - and the pub itself was divided into poky private rooms. Still, when they popped into being before the entrance, Tonks flipped up the hood of her robes and changed her hair from acid orange to glossy chestnut to make herself less conspicuous. On entering, they ducked immediately into one of the cubby-like rooms. The carpet was gluey underfoot from generations of spilt ale and the wall was bedecked with a yellowing hippocampus skeleton but, on taking a seat on the bench, Tonks declared:

 

“This is bloody perfect! Nice to have a bit of R&R isn’t it?”

 

After checking for surveillance charms, Remus placed ten sickles into a shell-decorated box and tapped it with his wand. He tried not to wince as he did so - he was horribly aware that he was spending savings supposed to last the entire week. Two butterbeers appeared. 

 

Tonks tugged her robes over her head and shoved them into a bundle on the seat beside her. She wore a form-hugging purple turtleneck over denim shorts and a pair of heavily ripped tights. Remus felt conscious of the drabness of his threadbare clothes; so ancient that even Molly’s expert darning spells couldn’t help him. He thought too of the bandages that lay beneath them. But, as he wrapped his hands around the hot flagon and looked over the table at his companion he couldn’t help but begin to relax. There was little he enjoyed more than to sit and listen to Tonks chatting. The winter sun was starting to turn golden as it shone through the dirty window.

 

“How do you know about this place?” Tonks said, wiping butterbeer foam from her mouth with her sleeve.

 

“One of the Hogwarts ghosts told James about it in our seventh year. Naturally, we hatched a grand plan to sneak out of the castle and try it out. We flew all the way from Hogwarts castle. When we finally landed on the rock, we were soaked to the skin but pretty pleased with ourselves nonetheless. It didn’t occur to us that the barman might be a few steps ahead of us when it came to keeping Hogwarts students out of his establishment. Peter wasn’t yet eighteen and as soon as one foot passed the front door, he was blasted backwards. We ended up having to pull him out of the sea” 

 

“What did you do next?”

 

“Flew all the way back again. If one of us wasn’t getting in, then none of us wanted to. That’s how we used to be” 

 

“You’d have been better off sinking a few pints and leaving him to be fish food” Said Tonks. 

 

A sudden memory struck Remus like ice water down his back. 

 

_“Shall we kill him together?”_

_“Yes, I think so”_

 

“Sorry” Tonks said quickly, noticing the shadow that fell over his expression. “That was flippant. Remember the day we met and I told you I didn’t have much of a filter? Yeah, I’m still working on that”

 

“It’s alright” Said Remus, forcing a smile to wrench himself back to the present moment. “You’re not wrong. I don’t know why I even brought him up”

 

“It’s must be hard…remembering the past” Tonks swilled the butterbeer around in her flagon. “Do you and Sirius talk about it much?”

 

Remus sighed. “We talk about school. But we tend to stick to reminiscences about James - the kinds of stories we’ve told you - pranks, Quidditch victories, teenage hijinks. We don’t talk about the first Order of the Phoenix. Or what came afterwards”

 

Tonks frowned. “You don’t talk about the last war? At all?”

 

“Apart from the night we were reconciled, the only time we’ve spoken about it in each other’s presence was on the night you yourself joined the Order” 

 

“But…” Tonks appeared to be fighting for control over her eyebrows. “You must have…so much to talk about… _so much_ to get straight?!”

 

Remus’ stomach clenched. Since they’d met again in his cottage on the moors, he had been waiting for the time that he and Sirius would address the gulf that was their years of estrangement and the chain of events that had led to it. But those silences were never filled. The unanswered questions remained so.

 

“I mean…you spent thirteen years believing that Sirius betrayed you and massacred a street full of people. And now you’re living together. Best buds again. It’s none of my business, I know, but surely you both need a bit of closure?”

 

Sights flickered behind Remus eyes. A twenty one year old Sirius glaring daggers at him from across a crowded room, with Peter close beside him. Two coffins lying side-by-side, half-obscured in a blur of tears.

 

“When Sirius is ready” Remus said, softly. 

 

Twisted by a twinge of guilt at the thought of his oldest friend alone with Kreacher back at Grimmauld Place, Remus cast around in his mind to change the subject.

 

“How have things been with your friends?”

 

Tonks wrinkled her nose. “Not great. Pretty rubbish actually. My old Hogwarts crew have scattered. We write to each other but…it’s weird. I’m living this mental double life, which I can’t tell them anything about, whilst they just want to talk about what kind of craft mead they’re drinking these days. They seem cool with the Daily Prophet’s line on everything but, mostly, they just don’t seem that bothered. Then there’s the Aurors. A lot of them used to be my mates, but they’re all in Umbridge’s pocket. To be honest…” Tonks tugged, apparently unconsciously, on a shiny lock of hair. “I only feel like myself when I’m around the Order”

 

“Then we’re exceedingly lucky people”

 

Tonks’ glum expression broke into a wide smile. 

 

“Though it’s a sign that we’re living in very strange times when you prefer spending time with an old werewolf, a housebound maniac and a criminal hippogriff” Remus continued. 

 

“Oh come on, you’re hardly old” 

 

Remus raised his eyebrows. 

 

“You’re an old soul, but you’re not _old_ ” Tonks insisted. 

 

“An old soul” Remus smiled, considering this. “What does that mean exactly?”

 

“I don’t know!” Tonks laughed. “It just sort of…fits you. It means you’re…thoughtful…dignified. It’s the kind of thing my Nana Tonks used to say” 

 

A clomping sound beneath the table indicated that Tonks had removed her heavy black boots. She drew her legs beneath her on the bench and crossed them happily.

 

“Have I ever told you about my Nana Tonks?”

 

Remus shook his head. 

 

“Well, you’re missing out! She was an absolute legend” Said Tonks, glowing. “She got pregnant with my dad when she was sixteen - my great-grandparents were killed in the Blitz so she had to raise him all by herself. She used to sell fruit from a stall on Petticoat Lane. Bit of a shock when her four year old started levitating the plums, but she took it all in her stride”

 

Tonks gulped down some more butterbeer, then continued in still more animated tones. 

 

“I used to spend every New Year’s Eve with her, without fail. Even during my time at Hogwarts. It was a little tradition we had. We’d watch the muggle firework display from the tiny balcony of her high rise and put one of her favourite records on. She had one of those old muggle record players, you know the ones I mean?” 

 

Remus nodded, thinking of the one sitting in his room at Grimmauld Place that very moment 

 

“We’d get tipsy on sherry then have a dance around the flat. I mean, she got a little less mobile as the years went by - but she could still shuffle to the beat pretty well from the sofa! She was the first person not to laugh when I first said I wanted to be an Auror. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are great and everything, but when I first announced my intention to ace all my exams and apply for the most elite job going - at a time when I could barely turn an essay in on time - it raised some eyebrows. But Nana Tonks never had a doubt. She didn’t really know what an Auror was obviously - I think she pictured me as some sort of witch James Bond - but she was convinced I could do it”

 

The corners of Tonks’ mouth twitched downwards. Her hand lay on the table between them and Remus had a sudden, insane impulse to place his own on top of it. He didn’t.

 

“She died before my graduation. I can still hear her though - ” Tonks spoke in beautifully accurate cockney tones: “‘Don’t you stop fighting, Dora. Show ‘em what y’made of’”

 

“Well I can see where you get your bravery from” 

 

“The Tonks family - proving that Gryffindors don’t have a monopoly on bravery!”

 

“A toast to that” Said Remus. 

 

They clinked glasses. Remus noticed, with a squirm of shame, that they were running low and his pockets were empty. Seeming to read his mind, Tonks put some new sickles into the shell box and tapped it. Two pints of Scally Wizzbee ale appeared this time. Remus took a sip, before asking a tentative question he had wondered about for a while. 

 

“Have you told your parents what you’re doing?”

 

Tonks bit her lip. “No. I don’t want them to be in any danger. I don’t want them involved at all”

 

“I know, I know!” She said, before Remus could respond. “I might end up with no choice. But it would be bloody nice if we were able to nip this whole you-know-who thing in the bud before that happens!”

 

Remus laughed. “It would”

 

“So. Hogwarts…the Order…then teaching at Hogwarts…then the Order again” Tonks counted each stage on her fingers. “There’s a big gap. What did you do after the war?” 

 

She was staring intently at him.

 

“The only thing I could do. I left. As soon as the funerals were over. I couldn’t stand…” 

 

Remus paused, his heart beginning to beat faster. He never talked like this. He didn’t want to raise the dead right there in the pub, but he felt the memories clawing at him, demanding to be told. After he’d gathered himself and spoke again, his voice was little more than a whisper. 

 

“Everything reminded me of them. I could barely look at anyone, barely make it through a day. The whole country was celebrating and it…it just made me feel sick. Not many people know this but…James and Lily left me money in their will. With a magical bind on it so I was prevented from giving it away. It came with a letter. Not a very, erm, _serious_ one. They - they never expected to be killed, you see. They made a will because they knew it was a sensible thing to do but…I don’t think they truly believed it was likely to be needed. At least, that’s one explanation for why the letter was so short; full of silly jokes, little sketches. There was just one sentence that felt real: ‘Don’t you dare spend this on something sensible, Moony’”

 

“So…what did you spend it on?” Tonks’ voice was gentle.

 

“I went to the international apparition station. I could barely stand, but for some reason they let me through. I didn’t come back for seven years” 

 

“You went travelling around the world?!” Tonks sat up in her seat, her eyes bright. 

 

“It was really more of a case of staggering from country to country, I assure you” 

 

“Where did you go?!” 

 

No one had ever really asked him this before. Though he would have thought it unthinkable, he found himself pouring everything out to Tonks. The initial years were a haze of grief and drink. He’d headed straight for a werewolf community he’d heard stories of that dwelt in a forest in Bavaria; a pack who tried to live peacefully. They’d taken him in, with no small amount of suspicion especially given his inability to explain where he had come from and why. By the time he’d earned his place among them, it was time to move on. He apparated, flew and walked from pack to pack. To the midnight sun worshippers of Iceland, the mountain dwellers of Bhutan and, eventually, making his way to a werewolf-only island in the South Pacific. A place of legend, that most believed not to exist, it was where he stayed for the final three years of his self-imposed exile.

 

“I’m impressed” Tonks said slowly. 

 

“It wasn’t as adventurous as it sounds” He said, quickly. “I was…a bit of a mess back then. 

 

This was an understatement, he thought. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much physical distance he put between himself and the graves of his friends, the hole in his heart wouldn’t close up. 

 

“I can’t imagine you as a mess, Remus Lupin” She said. “I bet you had a girl in every port”

 

Her remake came as such a surprise that Remus couldn’t stop himself from blushing, heat spreading across his cheeks and down to his chest. Tonks, her eyes slightly wide, as if surprised too, stared back at him with something like stubbornness. He’d had entanglements, that was true: always with women who shared his affliction, always short-lived. Even if they started sweetly, they would quickly crack. Either they’d tell him he was too broken, too distracted, too secretive to be their lover, or he’d tell them that he had to keep travelling, that he couldn’t stay. It was all a very long time ago. 

 

“Not…in every port” He managed to say.

 

“I’m doing that thing, aren’t I? Asking too many personal questions?”

 

“You can ask me anything, Tonks” Said Remus, attempting to recover and wondering if his words were really true. 

 

“Why did you come back?” 

 

“Because all I was doing was running away. After seven years, I still saw the four of them behind my eyes every time I tried to sleep. Making my way to the other side of the world hadn’t helped. Besides, I knew Voldemort would return one day and that to stay away any longer would be cowardice. So I returned. And six months later my mother got her diagnosis”

 

“Cancer?” Said Tonks, quietly. 

 

Remus nodded. 

 

“Like my Nana Tonks. The pain of loving muggles…” Tonks gave a small smile and met Remus’ eyes. “But we can still make them proud, can’t we?” 

 

He returned her smile and a peaceful silence fell on them both. Remus felt strangely emptied out, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. The sun was setting and pink light touched Tonks’ smooth, pale cheek. Looking at her, Remus felt an intoxication that had nothing to do with the weak ale in his hand. 

 

“Okay…another question” Said Tonks. 

 

She took a breath and ruffled her hair a little. She had the air of a person gearing themselves up for a task. Remus felt nervous suddenly. What on earth had possessed him to tell her she could ask him anything?

 

“What about…your, erm, personal life now? Any girlfriend on the scene?”

 

“Of course not!” Said Remus, his incredulousness manifesting itself into a slightly shaky chuckle. Why had she raised this subject again?

 

“Why ‘of course not’”? . 

 

Remus wasn’t sure whether she was being naive or trying to save his feelings through kindness. Either way, he felt a wall inside him rising up. He forced a tight smile, attempting levity:

 

“You sound a little like Sirius and James. They always tried to encourage me to date; they never took my condition wholly seriously back then”

 

A bang of glass on wood as Tonks slammed her ale down onto the table. There was no longer any trace of a smile on her face. 

 

“I do take it seriously” 

 

Her face was set and fierce, not unlike how she had looked when they were patrolling the docks earlier that day. 

 

“I do take it seriously” She repeated. “Why did you say ‘of course not’? I want to know”

 

The sun was now fully behind the horizon. The room darkened. A candle jumped into life between them.

 

“Well...” Remus began, not quite believing he was actually going to discuss this with her. “I have no ties to any other werewolves anymore. Then, erm, when it comes to witches, well…Sirius used to call it ‘Moony’s Quandary’ back at school. It was impossible for me - ethically and, well, practically - to start anything romantic with someone without first telling them that I was a werewolf. But no one, if they found that out, would ever want to start anything romantic with me. So…” He trailed off. 

 

“I see” Said Tonks, considering this. “But what if you met someone who _did_ know you were a werewolf and wanted to be with you anyway?”

 

“That’s never happened” Remus said with a dry throat; so quickly it was almost an interruption. “It’s hardly likely” 

 

He looked out of the window towards the dark ocean. He didn’t want to meet Tonks’ gaze. He couldn’t stand to see what he knew he would find there: pity. But when he finally did look at her, there wasn’t the slightest trace. Instead, her face was thoughtful. Beautiful. She was gazing into the candle and Remus could see the reflection of the flame dancing in her eyes. Longing burned in his chest. He wanted the fire to swallow him up.

 

“Let’s get a bottle of wine!” Tonks said suddenly, face breaking into life. “My treat!” 

 

A bottle of red wine arrived and their talk became light again. The shadows their previous conversations had wrought retreated. Time started to pass in a dizzying flurry of laughter and conversation - Tonks found a battered game of wizard scrabble underneath her seat and a game ensued. When Remus won with 'astrolabe', Tonks sent the pieces flying at him in a tickling, biting mass of letters. By the time the windows and doors flew open to indicate closing time, Tonks was no longer sitting opposite him, they were side-by-side. And Remus’ cheeks hurt from smiling. 

 

The roar of the waves was deafening as soon as they left the pub. Tonks tripped on the rocky ground and Remus grabbed her arm to steady her, salt water spraying them from every angle. Tonks’ unfastened robe billowed around her in the gusts and she laughed as it flapped up over her head. Blinking from the salt water on his face, Remus’ fingers found the clasp and fastened it at her neck whilst she held the hem still. His face was close enough to see, from the warm glow emanating from the pub windows, tiny droplets of sea water on her brow. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. Remus’ pulse pounded uncomfortably in his neck.

 

“Remus, I’ve had a really great time” Tonks said. 

 

Though she was so close, her voice barely carried over the din of the sea. As he had discovered before, words felt utterly inadequate to describe his experience of being with her. He didn’t trust himself to speak, didn’t trust himself to move. He felt unmoored, as if the wind could suddenly pick him up and take him out to sea. The feeling intensified when Tonks slipped her arms around his neck in a hug. They’d never embraced before. He could feel her strong, slim body against his. His arms wrapped around her of their own accord. He could feel the curve of her waist, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her face turned and her small, cold nose touched his neck. Then she kissed his cheek. 

 

“See you again soon?” 

 

“Goodbye, Tonks” He said, half in a whisper. 

 

She apparated and it was like being pulled out of a dream. One single thought chased itself around and around his mind.

 

_Oh fuck, I’m in trouble_


	9. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one, folks! I always try to update within 2 weeks or less but work’s been crazy this month. Hope you enjoy - thank you so much to all the lovely commenters so far :) 

**Chapter 8: Hope**

 

_Leaving the close warmth of the pub behind them, they burst out into the salt-water whipped air. The toe of Tonks’ thick boot struck a rock. She overbalanced and pitched forward towards the ground, but felt a pair of strong hands grip her elbows to steady her. She’d forgotten to fasten her robes and now they billowed all about her in a disorientating flap of fabric, blown around by the roaring wind. She laughed, holding the hem still, whilst Remus leant towards her. She felt his soft fingers brushing her throat as he clasped the fastenings together. His face was so close she could see tiny droplets of sea water on the fine stubble of hair on his jawline. Their eyes met. Her heart leapt and hammered against her ribs - she knew this was the moment. Without a second thought, her heels left the floor and she seized his collar, bringing his lips to crush against hers. She knew instantly that it was right; knew that he wanted her too by the hunger in his kiss, the fervency and softness of his lips and his tongue as they met hers. She could taste the salt of the sea, the sweetness of wine; feel the thickness of his hair as her fingers raked through it, the deft strength of his hands as they moved over her body. Everything became the sensation of their bodies pressing together, colliding for the first time. She kissed and kissed him. She wanted to pull him down to the wet, rocky ground with her. The waves could crash over them for all she cared, all she wanted was -_

 

“Nymphadora, are you even _listening_ to me?” 

 

Tonks blinked and jumped a little in her seat. Not for the first time since her evening with Remus at The Scally Wizzbee, she’d gotten lost in her new favourite fantasy: what could have happened if she hadn’t bottled it, if she’d actually gone and leapt on the man as she’d so wanted to do instead of bleating out a lame “See you again soon?”. It was a frustrating ‘what if’, made all the more maddening by the fact that she’d barely seen him since.

 

“Sorry Mum! I was, er, miles away. What were you saying?”

 

Andromeda Tonks’ eyes were like shards of black ice as she watched her daughter from across the table. Tonks knew better than to choose that precise moment to protest the use of her first name. The thrill of her fantasy utterly deflated, her brain began to re-accustom itself to her actual location: her parents’ dining room. They’d been eating dinner but as her dad had started to discuss the rising prices at Gambol and Japes, Tonks had tuned out over the sticky toffee pudding. Now it seemed her mental absence had been noticed. 

 

“I was saying” Her mum’s tone was clipped. “That I was reading the Daily Prophet the other day and I read a statement…given by _Auror Tonks_ ”

 

Tonks swallowed a painfully large lump of pudding. The Prophet had indeed forced her to give a soundbite regarding the whereabouts of Sirius Black (the Faroe Islands, of course). It must have been printed that day. 

 

“Mum - ” 

 

“You’re working on the Sirius Black case?”

 

Tonks put her spoon gently down on the table. Her mum’s voice was as crystalline as ever but Tonks knew it was masking hurt. She looked back at the familiar face: Andromeda’s shiny black hair was coiffed and elegant, her face (so like and yet so unlike her cousin’s) smooth and unravaged, with a beauty that belied her forty-six years. But it struck Tonks then that she could see something in her mum’s face that she’d never seen before. Fear. 

 

“I am, Mum, but don’t - ”

 

“When exactly were you planning on telling us this?” 

 

Tonks bit her lip. There was no satisfactory answer to this question and she knew it. 

 

“I’m sorry. I just - I didn’t want you to fret about me” 

 

“ _Fret_ about you? Is that what it’s called when your daughter puts herself on the frontline of tracking down a mass-murderer? A fanatic lunatic who has a very special hatred for you and your blood?”

 

Tonks shifted in her seat. The weight of the lie was making her stomach feel like it was full of lead. 

 

“I’m an Auror…hunting dark wizards kinda comes with the territory…”

 

“You know exactly what I'm talking about” Her mother snapped. “It’s far more dangerous for you to hunt him than it is for any other Auror” 

 

“I know that, Mum. It’s why they’ve kept me off the case for so long. But…look…I’ve told you before that I’m one of the only Aurors who believes Dumbledore - that means I’m the best person for the job. It’s why I insisted they make me Assistant Auror on the investigation. It was my choice”

 

Her parents were silent. Her mum was sat arrow-straight, tense and stiff. Her dad was slouched forward a little, one hand under his chin. Tonks tried not to remember the many hours she’d been spending in Sirius’ company since they met, but an unbidden film reel of laughter, playful punches on the shoulder and clinking beer bottles played behind her eyes. Tonks was point-blank opposed to her parents having any involvement in the Order and Kingsley had made it abundantly clear that only those permitted at Headquarters could know the truth about Sirius. Though the deception felt like a betrayal, Tonks knew - and the prospect emboldened her - that one day the Ministry would come to its senses. On that day, Sirius would be exonerated and there’d be no more secrets. She allowed herself to hope that perhaps this time next year they’d be looking forward to spending Christmas all together.

 

“Come on - you know me” Tonks attempted a winning grin. “I’ve always been good at getting myself out of trouble. I’ll be fine!” 

 

But her mother didn’t smile back. 

 

“You don’t know him like I do” She said, in a strangled whisper that was completely unlike her usual speaking voice. “You don’t know any of them like I do. They have ice in their veins, Nymphadora. They’re _monsters_ ”

 

Goosebumps flared on the skin of Tonks’ arms. She had never heard her mother speak like this before. But she wouldn’t let herself waver. It was too important to keep her parents as far out of the Death Eaters’ sights as possible.  

 

“It’s my job to fight monsters, Mum”

 

Andromeda winced. Tonks knew her mum hated bravado. She had never understood her only daughter’s pull towards recklessness. 

 

“We just worry. That’s all, love” Said Ted. 

 

He put one hand on her mother’s thin wrist and with the other reached over the table to squeeze Tonks’ shoulder.

——

 

“Pawn to E5” Said Tonks, with a yawn. 

 

Their father-daughter game of wizard’s chess was still going. It was the early hours of the morning and the floor of the living room was littered with empty packets of cauldron cakes and beer bottles. Andromeda, oblivious to the carnage, slept gracefully on the sofa. The length of the game was in large part due to the fact that Tonks and her dad appeared to be equally useless and, after Tonks charmed each piece to sport a different multicoloured hairstyle, the pieces kept rebelling against orders. The pawn in question, who appeared to think its polka-dot pompadour beneath its dignity, simply glared up at her.

 

“Oh come on. If I change it to a mullet, would that help?”

 

“My daughter, the haggler! You remind me of my own mum sometimes” Ted chuckled.

 

Tonks smiled sleepily. Her pawn, clearly taking her offer as a threat, flounced to E5. Apparently entirely stumped, Ted sighed and frowned down at his own pieces. Tonks’ mind began to wander again. Why hadn’t she kissed Remus? _Should_ she have kissed Remus? She was unnerved by her own uncertainty. Reticence was completely out of character for her, she’d never been shy before: if she fancied a bloke, she always went for it. But any comparison just felt ridiculous. Who had ever had the power to make her knees weak through nothing more than an enigmatic smile and a mug of hot tea? Who had ever really seen her, _Tonks_ , instead of a metamorphmagus and everything that meant to their imaginations? Who had ever made her feel like this? Absolutely bloody no one. During the fleeting moments she’d seen Remus since their trip to The Scally Wizzbee, she’d searched for a sign, any clear sign, that he felt the same. But she still couldn't be sure. And now it was nearly Christmas. 

   
“Your turn, Dora”

 

She was tapping her chin thoughtfully when a hot, orange flash burst immediately before her eyes. She swore and shrank back, toppling off her chair and throwing a hand out for her wand. The tiny explosion was so bright that she had to squeeze her eyes shut. And there - as if imprinted on the very inside of her eyelids - was a message. 

 

_Hall of Prophecies_  

 

The curled letters were drawn in flames. Blinking, the image of the words still floating there, Tonks scrambled to her feet. A message sent by phoenix fire meant only one thing: a direct communication from Dumbledore. An emergency. 

 

“Dora, what on earth?” 

 

Ted stood up, his face a combination of bemusement and concern. Her mother was pushing herself up on the sofa, hair askew. 

 

“Nymphadora?”

 

But all Tonks could think of was her duty. Though her brain streamed with questions, she forced herself to focus solely on one single intention: get to the Hall of Prophecies. Her fist closed hard around her wand. 

 

“A call from work” She said shortly, putting up her other hand to stop her parents from approaching her. 

 

She turned on the spot and their confused faces disappeared in a whirl as she entered the squeezing, lung-compressing blur that was apparition. In a matter of seconds, a loud crack heralded the shock of the warm living room being replaced by the cold, noisy city street as her feet touched the hard stone pavement outside the Auror entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Her movements were staccato with adrenaline as she used her palm to unlock the portal and was sucked down, down into the ministry in a surge of green flames. As soon as she burst into the Atrium, she began sprinting full-pelt in the direction of the lifts. 

 

“Oi!” 

 

A pair of security wizards. Tonks dodged their stunners easily and, without so much of a glance behind her, she fired a single _Petrificus Totalus_ which separated into two separate jets, taking them both out instantly. Memory modifications could wait. Tonks had to reach whatever it was that was waiting for her at the Hall of Prophecies first. In the lift, buffeted in all directions, hurtling towards the ninth floor, she pulled her miniature portrait from Headquarters out of her back pocket.

 

“Griselda...! ” She yelled into the frame “What the hell is going on?”

 

When an immediate answer did not come, Tonks rapped the empty frame with her knuckles. A harassed-looking Great-Great-Great Aunt Griselda appeared. 

 

“Some kind of attack!” She croaked. “Phineas himself just heard from - ”  

 

On the word _attack_ , Tonks’ mind emptied of all other thoughts. The lift doors sprang open and Tonks ran at breakneck speed. Aiming her wand down at her legs, she jinxed them with a rapidity charm. They became a blur beneath her as she was propelled forward at an unnatural pace. Her leg muscles screamed in protest, but she kept pushing on: down the bare corridor, through the black door at its end and into the circular room pulsing with blue flames. After all the nights spent on guard duty, she knew which door to take next, even as the room itself began to rotate, and she plunged straight through it. There, on the floor beneath the cathedral-high ceiling and the glimmering shelves, lying flat in a pool of blood that spread wider even in the seconds it took her to approach him, was - 

 

“Arthur!” Tonks choked out. 

 

Her first thought was that she was too late. He was dead.

 

“Arthur! Arthur!” 

 

She skidded to a stop, her body sliding hard onto the floor beside him. Her fingers went straight to his neck to find the weakest of pulses beating there. His skin was white, as if drained. His body was riven with deep, gaping slashes; ugly gashes from which blood gushed. Without hesitation, she recalled her training and began to whisper incantations over him. Pale purple light flowed from her wand and her hands as they passed over his torso, illuminating his deathly face and glinting off his broken glasses. But she saw instantly that there was something very wrong. Her spells - the very best of battlefield healing techniques - weren’t working. The light of the magic fizzled and died, as if drowning in the open wounds themselves. The blood continued to flow. 

 

Tonks leapt to her feet, conjuring a stretcher for Arthur and levitating him up onto it. He only had one chance of lasting the night: St Mungo’s. She began sprinting back the way she had come, with the same painful magical acceleration as before, this time with Arthur at her side. 

 

“It’s going to be okay Arthur…it’s going to be okay…” She panted.

 

But she knew he couldn’t hear her. When they reached the corridor to the lift, she heard footsteps up ahead. Tonks raised her wand but didn’t slow her pace. No one was going to stop her getting Arthur out of here. 

 

“Tonks!” 

 

It was Kingsley. The look of horror in his normally steady eyes when he caught sight of Arthur confirmed Tonks’ worst fears about his condition. She kept running. She knew without having to shout instructions that Kingsley would know what to do: memory modifications; blood cleaning; erasing all trace of their presence before the sun came up.

 

The lift. The atrium. And then the cold air of the street, where she could finally apparate. Tonks lurched forward to wrap her arms around Arthur’s limp form. She felt the warm blood seeping through her clothes as she transported them both. A squeeze, another lung-crushing press of air, and they landed in St Mungo’s Hospital’s casualty room. With the one rasping, desperate breath remaining in her lungs, Tonks yelled for help. But the Healers were already there; as if waiting for them. They reached for Arthur’s stretcher and vanished with him to an upper floor. Tonks keeled over double, her hands on her knees, pulling in as much air as she could. When she raised her head, she saw an old woman in Healer uniform approaching her slowly. The Healer raised her palm, as if signalling stop but, for just a split second, Tonks saw the imprint of a phoenix feather blazing there.

 

“Follow me” She whispered. “We have a special waiting room. For friends of Albus Dumbledore”

 

Tonks undid the spell she’d cast on her wobbling legs, then dragged herself after the Healer. They passed a portrait of an elderly witch with long silver ringlets who looked vaguely familiar; she looked at them both before running out her frame. The Healer gestured for Tonks to enter a door that had just materialised in the otherwise nondescript wall. With a quick, sympathetic smile she closed the door behind her. Tonks was alone in a small chamber that was empty but for a few chintz armchairs and a box of tissues which sat on a polished, griffin-leg table. There was utter silence save for her own uneven breathing. Tonks raked her hands through her hair. All she could see was Arthur’s face, how frighteningly pale and unmoving it had been. She hadn’t had a chance to check his pulse again before the Healers took him away. For all she knew, he could have died during the frantic run out of the Ministry. Tonks took a deep, rattling breath. Arthur couldn’t die. The man who loved plugs; the man who entreated Tonks to ask her father exactly what a “Bingo Night” entailed; the man who kissed Molly on the cheek as she blushed and smiled; the man who was the father to Ginny and Bill and Ron and the twins and….A horrible sadness gripped her and Tonks hugged her arms around herself in the dark room. The door behind her clicked open and shut quietly. She span around. 

 

“Kingsley?”

 

“No…it’s me. Kingsley’s still at the Ministry, I think”

 

It was Remus. He looked exhausted; almost as white as Arthur had been, one hand still on the door handle behind him as if supporting himself.

 

“Are you alright?” He said, quickly.

 

She nodded automatically, before launching into an urgent flurry of questions.

 

“Did the Healers tell you anything? About Arthur? Do you know if he’s going to be okay?”

 

“They weren’t able to tell me anything, they just sent me straight in here. I’m sorry not to be able to bring better news. Tonks…what happened?”

 

Tonks was pacing in a tight circle now, her arms crossed tight across her chest.

 

“I got the call from Dumbledore, I went straight there - had to freeze a couple of security guards - Arthur was…lying there” Tonks swallowed. “He was…there was so much blood…covered in cuts, slashes, all over his body…like he’d been…like some sort of _creature_ had attacked him”

 

“A creature?” Remus’ voice was low, his face drained of all colour. 

 

“I have no idea what, or how, all I know is that the wounds they - they weren’t normal. I tried the Auror-standard healing spells but they wouldn’t respond. He just kept on bleeding and bleeding, so I knew the only way he’d have any shot was coming here”

 

Remus nodded. “You did well. You got him here extraordinarily quickly. We only got the alert at Headquarters barely fifteen minutes ago” 

 

Tonks stopped pacing and looked at Remus. 

 

“I don’t get it. How did Dumbledore even know that Arthur had been attacked?”

 

“Harry”

 

_“Harry?”_

 

“Phineas Nigellus told us that he witnessed the attack in a dream. It must have been some kind of vision”

 

Tonks’ mouth opened. Her head was spinning. But before she or Remus could speak again, they heard a high, wailing explosion of words coming from the casualty room.

 

“Where is my husband? He’s been attacked, his name is A-Arthur Weasley. I need to go to him, p-please”

 

The anguish in Molly’s voice made the pit of Tonks’ stomach contract. She felt sick and a new emotion filled her - a sudden, rupturing guilt.

 

“I should have been faster” She snapped, beginning her pacing again. “I wasted time…I tried to heal him myself….”

 

Remus’ eyes were wide and his voice was stern as he responded. 

 

“It was the right thing to try that first. Tonks, you did everything you could”

 

Tonks shook her head bitterly. She felt suddenly enraged, furious. 

 

“I should have brought him straight here! Even that extra minute I spent faffing around with healing spells could have cost him… _buckets_ of blood! Why didn’t I - ”

 

“No” 

 

Remus cut her off, stepping forward towards her. He gripped her shoulders, stopping her erratic pacing. 

 

“This is the shock talking. You did the right thing and, most importantly, you did it fast” 

 

Tonks, to her horror, felt tears seeping beneath her eyelids. She couldn’t help it. She thought of Molly. She thought of the kids. She thought of her own dad and if it had been him lying bleeding on the floor.

 

“I think…I think Arthur might die”

 

She pressed the heels of her hands on her eyes. Her breaths were heaving now. She leant her forehead onto Remus’ shoulder and instantly his arms were around her. She pushed herself in close to him, wanting to melt into his comforting smell.

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry” Tonks raised her head from his chest, after an indeterminate amount of time, rubbing her cheeks with her sleeve. “Getting weepy’s not going to help Arthur. I shouldn’t be like this”

 

“There’s nothing weak about crying, Tonks” 

 

There was a gentle ferocity to his voice that she thought could only ever come from Remus Lupin.

 

“You feel this way because you have heart, because you’re nothing like the people who did this to Arthur”

 

There was a little more colour in his cheeks now. Though his face was shadowy and tired, his grey eyes were as bright as they always were when he looked at her. She felt herself calming and her heart swelled, noticing quite how close their bodies were. She gave him a small, sad smile but he glanced away suddenly, breaking their eye contact and removing his arms from around her. He approached the fire place. Flames sprang up in the grate, bathing the dim room with its flickering yellow light. Tonks sighed inwardly, both at the loss of his touch and because she knew what they had to do now: wait. They sat down in two of the chintz armchairs and listened to the muffled sounds of the hospital all around them. Remus pulled a bar of chocolate out his pocket and she took some gratefully. Last night was the full moon, she remembered. That was why he looked so shattered. Time ticked on and Tonks’ yearning for news was unbearable. She ached to hear that Arthur, lovely Arthur Weasley, was going to be okay - that he wouldn’t be the first to fall of their new Order. 

 

“Is this what it used to be like?” Tonks whispered. “In the first war?” 

 

“Yes” Said Remus, his voice was hoarse, almost inaudible. “But, well…it was constant”

 

Remus’ hand lay on the armrest between them and she slipped her fingers between his. She wanted to share her strength with him now, as he had done with her. His hand was stiff, hesitant, but then her squeeze was answered with a soft one from him in return. Shoulder to shoulder, they sat in a purgatory of waiting, barely speaking, until sunlight began to seep through the curtains. Tonks, whose chin was almost at her chest in a haze somewhere between sleeping and wakefulness, bounced up out of her seat in surprise when the door flew open. 

 

“He’s going to be alright!” 

 

It was Molly, her voice warbling through delighted tears. They leapt to their feet. Remus had torn his hand away at the very same moment, but Tonks didn’t notice: all she saw was the joyous look on Molly’s exhausted face, the bright and wonderful confirmation that the monsters hadn’t won.

 

——

 

Christmas Day passed mercifully free of bad omens or unexpected rescue missions. Tonks even managed to convince her parents that her abrupt exit the other week was nothing but a Ministry drill (though she never felt absolutely certain that her mum believed her). In their little family of three, they observed all their favourite traditions: boardgames, belting out some muggle Christmas carols and swigging back many a glass of Flavia’s Forever Fizzy. But Tonks couldn’t stop thinking wistfully of the other Christmas Day happening at Grimmauld Place: Sirius - delighted at having a full house - playing his role of mercurial host; Fred, George and Ginny wreaking festive havoc; Remus looking handsome in the brand new jumper Tonks knew Molly had knitted for him….

 

The night they spent together at St Mungo’s had laden Tonks with more questions than answers and, as she pushed open the door to her empty flat on Boxing Day, the first thing she did was dump her bags and weave straight across the messy floor to the window. Mildred was sat on her perch, pointed feathery ears silhouetted against the bright winter sun. Beside her was a large, lumpy brown packet. Mildred hooted and ruffled her feathers as Tonks plucked a card from her beak. Small, neat handwriting had written simply _Tonks_ on the envelope. She unwrapped it hastily.   
 

_I hope this brings back some happy memories._

_Wishing you the merriest Christmas (you deserve it),_

_RJL_

 

There was a pleasurable tingling in her fingers as she snatched up the package, ripping away the the brown paper that covered whatever was inside. When she saw it, the breath left her lungs. She couldn’t believe it. The record player was just the same as the one she and Nana Tonks used to dance around her old high rise flat to, the one she’d told him about at The Scally Wizzbee. She ran her hands over its wooden lid, flipping it up to gingerly touch the needle and turntable beneath. She hurried to her bedroom, plopping the record player down on the soft patchwork blankets on her bed. She dived underneath to summon the dusty old vinyl she’d inherited from Nana Tonks. Blowing the cobwebs off of one, she was about to play it when she noticed something. The record player lay tipped on its side where she had deposited it on the bed and there seemed to be something on its base. She narrowed her eyes and drew it towards her. It was tiny writing, not a magical mark, but two smudged words written in pencil. 

 

_Hope Lupin_  

 

Remus’ mother. It had belonged to his mother. Tonks felt winded for a moment. Why would he do this? It was so thoughtful, so personal… But then it came to her and she realised that she knew exactly why. She felt certainty rise up inside her and it caused her to laugh, to clap her hands to her face. She put the record on and, as her flat of course had no electricity, tapped it with her wand. It began to play - a little scratchy, a little hissing, but completely perfect. She stood up and began to spin as the music filled her -  she’d spent so much time wondering and now, here it was, the beautiful, euphoric truth: he liked her back. 

 

She imagined that blissful, hungry kiss on the rocks once more but now it felt like portent, not fantasy. Tonks grinned as the prospect made her twirl all the more wildly around her apartment, knocking over mugs and accidentally kicking the furniture. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the next time she got an opportunity, she wasn’t going to hold back. 


	10. Flying Colours

**Chapter 9: Flying Colours**

 

Remus’ tea was over-brewed, but he hadn’t noticed. His spoon kept circling the mug, his gaze fixed unseeingly in the middle distance. Surely it had reached her by now? Whole days had passed since Christmas, but he hadn’t heard a thing. Anxiety pricked at him. What had possessed him to do something so demonstrative, so over the top? If his pockets weren’t so empty, he’d have been able to buy her a normal Christmas gift...

 

“Morning!”

 

Tonks bounded into the room, as if summoned by his very shame itself. Her hair was black and jaggedly spiked. In a few rough movements, she’d pulled out a chair next to him, plonked herself down, and pulled him into a windpipe-compressing hug. 

 

“I can’t believe you….!” 

 

She bumped his shoulder with her fist as they broke apart. 

 

“I’ve been playing it non-stop! I should have sent a note telling you I’d got it or something, but I wanted to say thanks in person”

 

_Don’t blush Remus Lupin, you absolute fool._

 

“It was nothing, really”

 

“Don’t be so bloody modest. It was really thoughtful. It meant a lot to me”

 

Remus was on a tightrope between two convictions: that the Christmas present had been the most brilliant idea he’d ever had and that it had been exactly the kind of dangerous compulsion that could land him in even deeper trouble than he was already in. If she guessed what the gift had truly meant; that he had given away his most treasured possession for the sole reason of giving her a momentary burst of happiness, she’d be horrified.

 

“I’m glad you like it” He said shortly, before clearing his throat and getting to his feet. “You, er, might not have heard. Dumbledore has decided that Snape will be teaching Harry occlumency in the new year”

 

“Oh - right” Said Tonks, a little jerkily, blinking at the change of subject. “Good news but…poor kid”

 

He could feel her gaze on his back as he poured his tea away down the sink. When he turned around again, he continued to steer the conversation into safer waters. He and Tonks had a job to do that day: get Harry and his friends to Kings Cross in one piece.

—- 

 

Once the teenagers were safely deposited at the station, Tonks apparated to join an Auror raid in Guernsey and Remus returned to Grimmauld Place. As he climbed the staircase to his room, he heard a furious stage whisper, accompanied by a muffled pummelling noise, coming from one of the spare bedrooms. 

 

“ - as bad-tempered as the twins when they hit their terrible twos but him in his thirties for heaven’s sake…!”

 

Remus peered around the door to see Molly Weasley furiously stuffing a trunk with clothes, packing to return to the Burrow now that Christmas was over. The room was filled with floating objects, each patiently waiting its turn to be shoved into the barrel-sized case.  

 

“Molly? Is everything alright?”

 

“…my intention was simply to cheer him up and I get my head bitten off in response…!”

 

Remus winced. Sirius’ mood had been teetering on a knife edge between snappish gloom and full-on rage ever since Christmas began to wind down. Molly let the socks she was holding flop onto the bed and turned to face Remus. 

 

“I thought he’d be pleased at the idea of holding a party here at Headquarters for New Years’ Eve - something to look forward to now that Harry’s back at Hogwarts - but, no, apparently he’s ‘not the Order’s _effing_ social secretary!’”

 

Though Molly’s cheeks were flushed and her mouth a hard horizontal line, he could see a sadness in her brown eyes. 

 

“It was never my intention to upset him” She said. “Arthur and I are extremely fond of Sirius really - ”

 

“I know” Said Remus, with a quick smile. “He’ll come round, don’t worry. I’ll speak to him”

 

Remus continued up the progressively narrow, increasingly creaky stairs to the attic: Sirius’ favourite haunt. He rapped his knuckles on the worm-bitten door. A low growl came from inside, but he pushed it open regardless. Buckbeak stood calmly, his claws hidden beneath a mess of straw, and Remus gave him a polite bow. Beside the hippogriff sat Sirius: powerful front paws crossed in front of him, an unmistakeable challenge in his staring, moon-like eyes. Remus raised an eyebrow and shut the door behind him. 

 

“Well?”

 

Sirius changed back into a man and raised himself up from the dirty floor, his shirt a little open, his face unshaved.

 

“You’ve come to ask me to apologise, I’m assuming? Your face has ‘Ten Points from Gryffindor’ written all over it”

 

Remus came forward to rub Buckbeak’s sleek neck. 

 

“I have no desire to lecture you, Sirius” He said, drily. “You already know you’ve been a pugnacious bastard”

 

Sirius gave a bark of a laugh and leant down to retrieve a dead rat from a wicker basket. He tossed it into Buckbeak's beak, which closed with a snap. 

 

“I’ll say sorry to Molly” He conceded, with a wry smile. “I’ll tell her I’m nothing but a washed-up old dog with a warrior complex and too much time on my hands” 

 

“Just the sorry will do” Said Remus. “She knows you’re really just worried about Harry. We all are” 

 

“Always the peacemaker”

 

Sirius leant back against the wall with his arms crossed. Remus wordlessly summoned a dead rat to his own hand, offering it to Buckbeak who happily snatched it up. The only sound for a few minutes was the crunching of bones. 

 

“Now that I’ve got you all to myself Moony, there’s something I’d like to ask you” 

 

Remus looked up. Sirius’ lip was curled. 

 

“Did you give Tonks a Christmas present?” 

 

Remus was momentarily winded by a sensation remarkably akin to having his stomach fall out and land hard on the attic floor.

 

“What?”

 

Sirius was grinning fully now.

 

“Did you give my dear cousin Nymphadora a Christmas present?” 

 

“I - ” Remus blinked. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Just answer the question, mate”

 

“I don’t see how it’s relevant”

 

“It’s a simple question, Moony. Did you give her a gift? Yes or no?”

 

Remus clenched his jaw, despising the heat that spread to his cheeks, knowing he was unable to continue paddling against the inevitable. 

 

“Yes. I did send her something”

 

Sirius’ grin became truly gleeful.

 

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that, Sirius. You know Tonks and I have become friends”

 

“Oh, I don’t think anyone could fail to notice that. What did you give her?”

 

Remus’ jaw felt as if it had been glued shut, but it didn’t matter because Sirius pressed on:

 

“I’ve got a theory, you see. The old muggle music box thing you had in your room’s gone. The one you brought with you from Yorkshire. The one that used to belong to your mum”

 

“You’re quite the sleuth, Sirius. Yes, I gave my old record player to Tonks. Though if you’re looking for some kind of intrigue or scandal, you’re going to be disappointed. I can tell what you’re trying to insinuate, but - ”

 

“Why not get her a box of cauldron cakes though? Why give her that precise object?”

 

Remus’ gaze travelled from the dirty window, to the bucket of rats, to Buckbeak who blinked back at him. 

 

“It was a gesture of friendship, nothing more. She has a fondness for old muggle record players. Besides, it’s not as if I could have afforded a real present. The truth, I suppose, is that I didn’t think it through particularly deeply. I hardly expected it to lead to this kind of speculation. I simply wanted to do something nice for her after everything she’s been through, everything she’s had to give up in order to fight alongside us”

 

“How romantic”

 

“It’s not like that, Sirius. It’s not like that at all” Said Remus, each word of the lie shredding at his conscience. 

 

“I’m not stupid, mate. And I’m not blind. The two of you have been getting closer and closer ever since the night you first clapped eyes on each other. I may have spent twelve years in a stinking jail cell with only a pathetic smattering of homicidal lunatics for company, but I haven’t lost my ability to tell when two people fancy - ”

 

“No, Sirius - ”

 

“She bought you a bunch of flowers, for fuck’s sake!” 

 

Sirius was laughing now, enjoying Remus’ discomfort. He knew he’d got him and, like the dog he spent so much time as, knew exactly how to sink his teeth in and give his old friend a shake.

 

“They were honking daffodils, it was a joke - “

 

“She told me all about the evening you spent getting cosy at The Scally Wizzbee - ”

 

“We had an unexpected afternoon off, it wasn’t some sort of _date_ \- ”

 

“She’s constantly looking at you and you’re constantly trying not to look at her”

 

“I’m not listening to this” Remus snapped, striding across the room to the door. 

 

He wanted to get as far away from Sirius as he could; as far away as possible from the cold shock of his most private secret being wrenched out of his control, prodded and laughed at. But before he could seize the door handle, Sirius had transformed and leapt in front of him as a dog. When he changed back to a man half a second later, his body was blocking Remus’ exit and his eyes were as hard as flint. He didn’t look remotely amused anymore. 

 

“You can lie to yourself mate, but don’t lie to me. We tore ourselves apart because we didn’t trust each other before. Never again. No more secrets. You have feelings for her. Tell me”

 

Remus let out a breath, stepping backwards away from Sirius, not wanting to see the look on his face - the pity, the potential mockery. 

 

“Sirius, I’m such a fool” 

 

Sirius let out a triumphant breath. Remus ran his hands through his hair, feeling an excruciating combination of the insecure teenager he had once been and some new, hideous vision of himself as an old man, leching on his friend’s young cousin. There was nowhere to run. 

 

“I’ve tried to fight it, believe me I’ve tried. This is the last thing I ever wanted or expected to happen. I’m sorry, Sirius, I - ” 

 

“Mate, stop that”

 

Remus felt Sirius’ hands squeezing his shoulders. 

 

“It’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with you fancying Tonks”

 

“Of course there is!” 

 

Remus broke away, shaking his head, still unwilling to look at his friend. 

 

“I’m a werewolf. As you - and she - are well aware”

 

“Doesn’t stop her from eyeing you up every chance she gets”

 

Remus span around now. It was too much. 

 

“This isn’t a joke, Sirius”

 

“I’m not joking! She likes you too. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s obvious!” 

 

Unbidden memories rose in Remus’ mind, flooding him with painful hope: her fingers slipping between his at the hospital, the blazing look she’d worn when they’d said goodbye on the rocks, her delighted smile that very morning…

 

“It’s impossible” He said, banishing the images. “Why can’t you understand that? Tonks is…she’s…Well, I can barely describe her! She’s a ball of energy, she’s brimming with talent, she’s mad, and beautiful, and….deserving of the very best that this world can offer her. And I could never be self-deluded, arrogant or irresponsible enough to make myself believe that could ever be me” 

 

“What makes you so sure exactly, Moony?”

 

“Sirius - listen to me. It. Is. Hopeless. Worse than that, it’s inappropriate. Tonks sees me as a friend and she’d be horrified, disgusted even, if she knew that I…that I…”

 

Sirius was looking at him eagerly, but Remus just glared at him as the sentence died. Sirius had never taken his condition seriously, not really, and here was the proof. 

 

“Tonks is in the Order to fight Voldemort. Not to have some ageing half-breed making eyes at her” 

 

Sirius, unfazed by the poison in the words, rolled his eyes. 

 

“Fucking hell, mate. A little lighter on the self-pity, please. You know what would cheer you up?”

 

“Getting obliviated?”

 

But Sirius didn’t seem to be interested in an answer. He burst out of the door and began thundering down the stairs. Remus hurried after him. 

 

“Sirius, where - ?”

 

“New Year’s Eve is a crescent moon, right?” Sirius called back over his shoulder as he jumped down three steps at a time. “A good night for you!”

 

“Wait, what - ?!”

 

“MOLLY”

 

Sirius landed heavily on the second floor corridor. 

 

“Sirius, no - ” 

 

“Molly!”

 

“I don’t think it’s - 

 

Molly emerged from her now bare-looking bedroom, arms folded and wearing her stoniest battle face, evidently expecting another disagreement. 

 

“Molly” Said Sirius, spreading his hands. “I was a complete prick earlier. I’m sorry. I want you to know that I’ve changed my mind”

 

“Oh!” Molly’s face relaxed into a tentative smile. “About the party? Well that’s lovely, Sirius!” 

 

Remus felt a faint despair as he saw Sirius’ plan click into place. Though he trusted him with his life, he wasn’t able to suppress the burning shame and dread that their conversation in the attic had wrought. As he hugged Molly goodbye at the front door before her departure for the Burrow, he tried to assure himself that it was only a party. It didn’t mean anything. In fact, what with mission timetables and the pressure of her double life - not to mention the fact that she probably already had a myriad of invitations from, what Remus imagined to be, an array of attractive, quirky and decidedly non-lycanthropic friends - Tonks probably wouldn’t even be able to come. 

 

——

 

As it turned out, Remus was right. Much to Sirius’ chagrin, Tonks was busy. The Minister for Magic was holding yet another gathering of the well-heeled at Fudge Manor and requested an Auror guard - doubtless concerned that some kind of Dumbledore-driven uprising might occur over the chocolate fountain. Remus wanted to feel calm and relieved at this news as he pulled his new Weasley jumper down over his head and looked despondently at his own reflection, but treacherous disappointment curdled in him. 

 

The basement kitchen was decorated in red and gold, reminding Remus of the clandestine parties they used to throw in the Gryffindor Common Room, though the inherent gloom of Grimmauld Place couldn’t quite be eradicated. Sparklers protruded from every cornice and cranny whilst the gentler variety of Fred and George’s indoor fireworks bounced merrily around the Black family furniture. Remus sipped the pumpkin punch which, for some unfathomable reason, had been entrusted to Mundungus Fletcher. He winced as its effects hit him. Truly potent. He chatted to Arthur about his impending return to work, before pulling a cracker with Hestia which caused her to sport two miniature fur trees as earrings. Sirius stood with his old boombox, changing songs with his wand, already betraying boredom in his movements. Remus swallowed a larger mouthful of punch. He spoke with Kingsley, who was impeccably dressed in a deep purple tailored suit, and they discussed the latest intelligence he’d gathered from meetings with Scrimgeour. It was at that moment they all heard the crash. The ceiling shuddered slightly and the faint sound of Walburga Black’s shrieks could be heard. Kingsley chuckled. Mad Eye grunted in disapproval. Sirius’ gaze snapped over to land on Remus, all traces of boredom gone. 

 

“Wotcher!”

 

Tonks had come clattering down the stairs and was now beaming around at the room. Remus drained the cup he was holding, but the rush of the alcohol was nothing compared to seeing her. Her hair, a shocking shade of ultra pink, was worn in a tousled bob and she wore a tight grey dress, a tiny badger necklace glinting just below her throat.

 

“I made Savage swap shifts with me. I owe him, like, a bazillion pints of ale, but I’m all yours ’til one!” 

 

The room cheered and Tonks grinned even more widely. 

 

“Crank the bloody music up! I have three hours of New Year’s Eve to enjoy and I intend to make the most of it!” 

 

The music swelled. Sirius roared, seized Tonks, and began to swing her on the small makeshift dance floor. Remus felt a turn in the atmosphere: Molly began giggling as Arthur used his good arm to turn her slowly on the spot, Emmeline and Hestia toasted one another, and even Mad Eye began to look a little merry; his magical eye still whizzed suspiciously around at all angles but in time to the music. Bill was the last to arrive. Tonks ran over and threw her arms around him. He leant back, lifting her feet off the floor. They were good friends from school, Remus knew, but they looked so perfectly matched that he felt an unpleasant contraction in the pit of his stomach. But then, Tonks grabbed someone else in a rough embrace; someone who didn’t look entirely delighted to be seized in this way; someone who surveyed the room with haughty scrutiny. Bill put his arm around this unfamiliar silver-haired girl, who beamed up him, and Remus immediately felt like marching over to shake her hand simply for existing.

 

_You shouldn’t be jealous. You shouldn’t be relieved. You shouldn’t be anything._

 

He found Mad Eye and tried to distract himself by listening to a series of particularly gruesome stories: a history of all the birthday parties, weddings and family gatherings Mad Eye had ever attended that had culminated in some sort of surprise enemy attack. Nearby, Mundungus and Emmeline were doing a strange sort of polka across the room. All around them, red and gold streamers continued to wriggle through the air. Mad Eye eventually limped away to sniff suspiciously at a cocktail sausage and Remus was left alone once again. But not for long. 

 

“What are you doing all by yourself in the corner?” 

 

Tonks was approaching him, gold sparks had fallen from the passing decorations and were glowing in her hair. 

 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to cause a mass panic if I began dancing. You’re displaying your Hufflepuff pride tonight, I see” He said, gesturing to her necklace. 

 

“Well someone’s got to represent the ‘puffs in this room of Gryffindor plonkers!” 

 

Tonks winked at him and lent her shoulder against the wall. 

 

“I can’t believe I’ve got to go and babysit Fudge at his schmoozer”

 

“You have my sympathy” 

 

“Good. It sucks” Said Tonks, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked pumpkin punch through a straw. “Still, at least I’ve got time to see the fireworks” 

 

“Sirius certainly outdid himself with the decorations” 

 

Tonks chuckled. “Not these ones! I meant the muggle fireworks. You know, over the Thames?”

 

“That you used to watch every year?”

 

“Exactly” Said Tonks, beaming at him. “Knew you’d remember. You’re good at that”

 

There was a pause during which Tonks’ eyes sparkled and Remus attempted not to look as giddy as he felt.

 

“You reckon it’s possible to see them from the roof of this place?” 

 

“I, erm…perhaps”

 

She smiled a smile he hadn’t seen on her face before. Half conspiratorial, half elated. As if she was sharing a secret with him. But he wasn’t able to decipher it and, before he could say anything else, she turned and with a whirl of pink returned to the fray (“Mad Eye! You old codger, why aren’t you dancing?”) All the light in the room seemed to be revolve around Tonks. Remus tried not to look at her; tried to avert his eyes from her smile, the perfect Tonksian way she bopped and flailed to the music; the way her body looked in that dress. He closed his eyes, drank deeply, and fought against an alternative vision of the evening: where he was a whole man, a normal man, the kind of man who could stride over to her with confidence, touch her hand, ask her to dance with him. Remus’ eyes snapped open and he jumped slightly as he felt Sirius’ arm land heavily on his shoulders.

 

“Alright, mate?” 

 

Remus nodded weakly. 

 

“Remember the night when James won his final Quidditch cup in seventh year? Now that was a fucking brilliant party” 

 

“You enchanted the carpets to make them bouncy” Said Remus, quietly. 

 

“And you charmed a cauldron full of butterbeer so that it kept refilling itself” Sirius squeezed Remus and topped up his cup. “Then James got his broom out, did a glory lap of the room, picked up Lily and flew with her out the window”

 

Remus smiled. He remembered Lily’s dark red hair streaming out behind her as James rocketed them towards the open common room window; she was screaming in protestation but giggling as well, wrapping her arms tight around him. Sirius raised his voice:

 

“ ‘James Potter you arrogant troll, don’t you dare!’ ” 

 

Soon Remus was laughing and Sirius’ stories were coming thick and fast: a show reel of every night they spent in illegal castle revelry. Remus was inevitably the one who had spent the evenings checking the Marauders’ Map for signs of McGonagall or Filch, patrolling the parties for trouble and taking care of any spills with a vanishing charm. But each minute with James and Sirius had been precious: the friends who had thrilled, exasperated and supported him in equal measure, despite what he was. Then, there was Lily too. The words she spoke to him one afternoon when he was at his lowest reverberated suddenly in his mind. 

 

_“You are worthy of love. Being a werewolf doesn’t change that!”_

 

He couldn’t believe it at the time. He still couldn’t believe it. But…

 

“60 seconds to midnight!” Molly exclaimed. 

 

Sparks began flying and spurting out of the huge clock on the wall.

 

“Oh, I’ll get the sherry - ”

 

“No! ’Ze champagne!” 

 

Bill’s girlfriend, who Remus had learnt was named Fleur, tossed her head imperiously. Molly raised an eyebrow. 

 

“I bring from France. It is ze only thing to ‘ave at midnight” 

 

In Fleur’s slim arms was a mighty jeroboam, she popped the cork, hair fluttering prettily and the room cheered. Champagne flutes embellished with a line of snakes around the rim came zooming out of cupboards. Remus stood, jostled in the middle of the group that had gathered all around him. How did he see in the new year last year? He could barely remember but he knew without doubt that he’d been alone. A surge of gratitude welled up in him. Then he felt a warm hand on his wrist and the barest brush of lips on his ear.

 

“The fireworks! Let’s go” 

 

Remus let himself be pulled away. Slightly disorientated, he didn’t notice that no one else was following or that, once they were up the first set of stairs, Sirius waved his wand to slam the door behind them. The hallway was dark, chilly and eerily silent once the noise of the party and its chorus of Auld Lang Syne had been extinguished. Tonks stomped up the staircase and Remus followed, wondering exactly how his hand ended up in hers. They went higher and higher until they reached the upper room containing the window onto the roof. They tumbled through it, Tonks laughing and Remus doing his best not to sprawl onto the bricks. The air was fresh and biting, the night clear. They set their champagne flutes on the ledge. 

 

“Where are they?” Asked Tonks, spinning around on the roof, her eyes searching the horizon. 

 

“To the south…there”   
 

Remus pointed. They stood and watched the fireworks blooming in the distance, their heads cocked to one side.

 

“Huh” said Tonks. “You know, I remember them being bigger when I was a child”

 

“Well, you were comparatively smaller” 

 

She laughed.

 

“I guess we’re too far away from the river” She scuffed her shoe against the floor. “Shame. I was hoping for something a bit more…spectacular”

 

She turned to him. It was dark, but her hair was bright as was the glint in her eye. Remus didn’t want her to feel disappointed. 

 

“Let’s try this” 

 

Remus muttered a quiet spell, before placing his wand carefully on the ledge. It exploded with colours: not fireworks, but smooth technicolour shoots and spirals that went corkscrewing up into the sky above them. When they hit the invisible dome of the shield charms they came back down again, surrounding Remus and Tonks in bright streaks, like rain. She smiled at him, delighted. She tipped her head back and spread her hands wide apart from her body, as if to catch the waterfall of flying colours that were all around her. He watched her, dumbstruck in the moment. Then he noticed the pluming of her breath in the air, the goosebumps on her bare arms. 

 

“You must be frozen!” He said suddenly. “Do you want to go back inside?”

 

“No” She shook her head, pink hair sashaying around her cheeks, the exact match to the lines of pink in the air around them. Tonks looked confident, serene, even as she drew in her arms to hug herself against the cold.

 

“I like it up here way too much” She said. 

 

She took a step towards him.

 

“I might need to steal some of your warmth though, if that’s okay with you?” 

 

He nodded, though he didn’t entirely know what she meant. Surely a warming charm would do the trick? But then, his thoughts disappeared when she took two more steps forward and leant into his chest, her hands and arms snuggled between them both. He could feel the coldness of her fingers even through the wool of his jumper and he hoped she wasn’t going to move them any higher - to where his heart was jumping against his ribcage. He felt lightheaded. The feel of her body against him - for the third time - in the cold December wind, whilst glorious colours rained down around them was the most surreal thing. She was in his arms and the rational, cautious voice in his head had dimmed to the faintest murmur.

 

“This is much better”

 

He didn’t dare speak a reply. Her hair tickled his chin. He didn’t dare move a muscle. But she did. She lifted her head and looked up at him. 

 

“There are sparks in your hair” She whispered.

 

Her hand moved slowly up. Her fingers brushed the back of his neck, a tiny stroke that sent an electric ripple down his spine. Her eyes searched his face. They were such a dark blue, he wanted to fall into them, to become something else. The colours still cascaded from his wand and all around them, but his mind was empty of everything except the look on her face. He didn’t feel hopeless, inappropriate, like a half-breed when she looked at him like that. His head bowed a little, hers titled upwards. Their foreheads were touching now. 

   
It all happened in less than a second: both her arms slipped around his neck and his tightened around her waist, and then there was no distance between them at all. Her lips touched his, a soft, slow pressure. He kissed her back, lost in the pleasure of their lips moving together. Desire rose up in him, an undiluted surge of need; he heard her quiet gasp of pleasure against his mouth as he pulled her body closer against his, one hand in the smooth tousle of her hair. In the rare moments that their lips broke apart as they stood on the roof of Grimmauld Place, he felt her smile. For the first time in his life that he could remember, he wasn’t able to feel the moon waxing above him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not dividing this story into parts but, if I did, this would be an ‘End of Part 1’ finale moment. From this point onwards, the story will become a little more adult and a little darker (rating will change accordingly). 
> 
> Harry & co probably did return to Hogwarts after, rather than before, New Year’s Eve but I hope you can forgive my slight edit to perceived canon for story reasons. The quote from Lily is a reference to a conversation that she and Remus have in my Marauders story, ‘Raging June’.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and supported this story so far! Let me know what you think in the comments if you get a chance :)


	11. Raising the Dawn

**Chapter 10: Raising the Dawn**

 

Tonks leant hard against the door she had just slammed shut behind her. Alone in her dark flat, she squeezed her fists, kicked her heels against the wood, and let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh of victory. Her shift supervising the swamp of sycophants at Fudge’s party had felt as if it would never end but, finally, she was home: free to indulge the memory of the rooftop, the soaring colours, the feel of Remus Lupin’s kiss. She let out a long breath, flumped down to the floor, and closed her eyes. 

 

He had been so nervous. She’d felt his heart pounding fit to burst against her own chest and the look in his eyes had been disbelieving, as if he was seeing a dream play out before him. She felt the surreality too. Even though this was the opportunity she’d been waiting for and the precise reason she’d brought him to the empty roof, it felt beautifully unreal. She’d hesitated for a moment, even as her forehead met his and she felt the soft flicker of his eyelashes against her cheek, because being on the precipice was more intense, frightening and glorious than any fantasy. But then, she couldn’t wait any longer. His lips had been impossibly soft against hers and her mind was wiped clean, all she knew was a melting sensation, a lightness, a tingle in all her limbs. He had been tentative, cautious, almost as if he thought it would end at any moment, but then there had been a change and, as her heels left the floor and she gripped his hair, deepening the kiss, his hands suddenly felt strong, beseeching, as he pulled her body closer to his. She could feel the wool of his jumper against her cold arms, the definition of his thin body beneath. Her hands ran over his torso, eager to know the body she’d wondered about for so long, but his muscles tensed, almost flinched - so she locked her hands behind his neck instead. In the tiny moments they broke apart, Tonks couldn’t stop herself from smiling. He didn’t, but she could feel his need all the same; knew that he’d wanted this as much as she had. But it was then that she’d remembered. She was on time that she’d begged and bartered for, and it was about to run out. 

 

The reemergence of the knowledge that she had an Auror shift to go to felt akin to her heart dropping out and landing, with a plop, six floors below in the bowl of pumpkin punch. She broke the kiss as gently as she could, opened her eyes and whispered:

 

“I’ve got to go” 

 

As soon as she’d done so, Remus’ hands dropped from her as if burned. Uncharacteristically clumsy, he’d stepped back and bumped against the rooftop ledge; his eyes darting across her face, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. She grasped it and enclosed it in both of her own before it could get there.

 

“No, no. Don’t worry! It’s just because of the bloody Auror rota. I’ve got to be at Fudge Manor at 1am”  

 

He looked as if he’d just been woken up from a deep sleep by a howler. His eyes were wide and his hair ruffled from where it had been seized in her fingers.

 

“Oh. Yes. Of course” 

 

His voice sounded a little hollow.

 

“I don’t want to go” She said quickly. She sought his eye contact and held it. “You know that I’d rather…”

 

The sentence hung in the air. Her stomach fluttered. A tantalising vision of what staying could mean played behind her eyes and her mouth opened and closed again stupidly, before she blushed and smiled. Remus, though, looked even more alarmed than before. She’d felt a twinge of worry then; it wasn’t quite the reaction she’d expected. She thought she knew his capacity for modesty, for insecurity about his condition, but no one could have a kiss like that and not think the other person was keen on them, could they?

 

“You should go” He said, in the same hollow voice. “The Ministry might start asking- ”

 

The seriousness in his tone meant that Tonks had no choice but to make it stop: she seized the front of his jumper and kissed him hard. A second of surprise then their bodies were back together and she felt the fire in him, the guarded exterior crumbling. It drove her crazy, but she had to break the kiss apart again. She grinned at him though, not wanting to hide how elated she was.

 

“See you soon” She said. 

 

He nodded and his smile, though a little shell-shocked, was warm, closer to himself again. Satisfied and frustrated all at once, she fled through the window and back inside the house. A quick look at her watch - 1.05am - sent her charging down to the bottom of the stairs, no time to say goodbye to the others. She seized her Auror robes from the adder-headed coat rack and burst out onto the front steps to apparate and replace, what would turn out to be, a non-too impressed Finlay Savage. 

 

Now Tonks, still leaning against her front door with one leg laid out straight, the other one bent with a knee straining through a brand new hole in her tights, opened her eyes. She coaxed herself back to the present. Sunrise hadn’t quite begun and, though her flat was gloomy, she made no moves to flick on any lights. Aside from a faint disapproving _hoo_ from Mildred, it was silent. She seized one boot and wriggled it off her foot, chucking it to one side, then did the same with the other. Unclasping her robes at the neck, she stood up and let them fall to the floor, leaving just the grey dress she’d worn to Grimmauld Place. Despite having been awake for twenty hours, she didn’t feel remotely sleepy. She felt wired. 

 

At Fudge Manor, she’d patrolled through the crowds, always keeping the lime green bowler hat in her peripheral vision even as she scanned around for any threats (just because the Minister was paranoid for all the wrong reasons, didn't mean it was completely unthinkable that his New Year’s Eve gathering could turn into a bloodbath if you-know-who decided he was tired of operating in the shadows). As she stalked through the heated rose garden, she made a mental note of every attendee she saw to report back to the Order. In addition to the plentiful guests on the Order’s Death Eater watchlist, there was another pattern emerging. There, puffing purple smoke from a fat purple cigar was Eugenia Grass who was responsible for the transfer of all responsibility for werewolves from the Being to Beast unit; quaffing apricot brandy from a goblin-made goblet was Julian Lomenech who’d worked with Umbridge on underwriting the latest law restricting werewolf employment; and Hawkin Darby who Tonks knew for a fact had written a whitepaper arguing for the deportation of all werewolves (or, as he referred to them, soulless lycanthropic human shells) to a specially made compound in Antarctica. Before long, Tonks was seized by the powerful urge to leap up onto the refreshment table, kick over the huge wand-shaped ice sculpture, up-end the champagne luge and holler at the top of her lungs: 

 

“I snogged a werewolf tonight and it was fucking AMAZING” 

 

Though the thought of one hundred outraged gasps, one hundred clatters of silver goblets onto the polished flagstones and one Minister for Magic turning a remarkable shade of puce, bobbed happily around in her brain, she - of course - resisted. She looked up at the sky and the sight of the moon - a creamy white crescent - sobered her mood. Tonks touched a thumb to the lips that Remus had kissed only hours previously. She wasn’t stupid: she was a fully trained Auror and she understood exactly what a transformed werewolf was capable of; understood that there was a physical basis to people’s fear that went beyond prejudice. It was the same undeniable fact of the condition that had caused her brief fluster on the night they’d first met. But fear didn’t come naturally to Tonks. She believed in her own instincts above all else. And if her gut told her that this werewolf was a friend; a comrade, whose grey eyes covered their pain with kindness; a _man_ whose presence could make her feel peaceful and electrified all at once…then that was that.

 

She supposed it was inevitable. She had grown up the child of an unholy union, in a household defined by its own contradictions. Prejudice had tried to break her parents apart, but in the end it had only made them stronger. So Tonks had never liked being told what to believe. A contrarian, her mother called her. As a child, it made her boisterous. As a teenager, it made her a tornado. It had taken her time to understand that the best way to change the things that she was so colourfully rebelling against - pureblood mania, snobbery, suppression - was to become a cog in the machine that was the Ministry. People sometimes thought that because she was a metamorphmagus, because she could make her hair into a punk rock emerald beehive or her eyelashes as long as quills, she was a solipsist. But the truth was that her goal, for as long as she could remember, had been to fling herself into making the world better. Remus understood that about her. 

 

Tonks strode across her living room to her bathroom, pulling her dress over her head as she did so, unfastening her necklace, tripping over her socks as she tugged them off her feet. A flick of the wand turned the shower on, as hot as it would go before it reached scalding temperature. She tossed her underwear aside, not bothering to look where it was thrown. Steam rose immediately as the water hit her cold body. She scrunched her eyes closed, raking her hair back as it soaked her. Then the memories returned to her again: she could see the intensity in his eyes, the raining colours reflected in them, hear that huskily soft voice. Soap bubbled over her body. She laughed, giddy. She couldn’t wait to kiss him again. 

 

Squeaky clean, body tingling from the heat and, despite the fact that it was technically morning, she got ready for bed. Pyjamas on, she sank into her mattress. Flopping onto her side, she reached out and touched the vinyl player that sat on her bedside table. The sight of the note beside it caused a momentary wrinkle in her brow: though he could have owled her tonight, he hadn’t. But she squashed this aside. What did it matter? They’d see each other soon and physical proximity could achieve far more than just a note. Remus may be cautious, may be nervous about making any moves, but Tonks contented herself with the thought that she was cocky enough for the both of them. 

 

She pulled the duvet around her and rolled impatiently. Sleep felt far away. The light outside her curtains was starting to turn a lighter shade of blue as the first day of January started to come alive. She fumbled for her wand, whispered a spell, and complete blackness fell in her bedroom. The absence of sight seemed to fire up her imagination with a new intensity. Everything was replaying in her head, but she didn’t laugh this time: she was overcome with longing. Because there was something else she remembered about their time on the rooftop: the unmistakeable hard pressure of him that she’d felt against her thigh, irrefutable evidence that the lust was shared, that it was raging. 

 

Tonks moaned into her pillow. What would have happened if she’d stayed? She bit her lip. It was too much. She ran her hand down beneath the waist band of her pyjama shorts. Her fingers found herself: warm and slick and sensitive. She knew her body, could bring herself to satisfaction when the need took her, but it was breathtakingly easy when her thoughts were as vivid as they were. Her other hand squeezed the covers. It was as if he was there: salt-and-pepper hair against her pillow; lips on her neck; his fingers instead of hers moving in circles, causing ripples and shudders of sensation. Soon she was pressing her face into the duvet and gasping. When she finally dropped into sleep, it was with a smile of anticipation for what would come next for the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter this update! Next up is Remus’ reaction to the kiss (perhaps needless to say, it’s rather different…)


	12. Raising the Dead

**Chapter 11: Raising the Dead**

 

Remus leant hard against the door he had just slammed shut behind him. He struggled to keep his breathing under control: his throat seemed to want to summon as much air in as possible, but his lungs couldn’t keep up. He put his hands up to his face. He tried to calm the panic that was rising like bile inside him; closing his eyes tightly to protect himself from the illusion that the four walls of his room were contracting inwards. 

 

After Tonks had fled the roof, he had continued to stand there, legs locked in place. The colours that his wand had been emitting drooped and died softly against the stone. The wind, which had ruffled her hair so perfectly as she’d stood and spun, her face aglow, began to feel icy. The distant fireworks had stopped and in their place rose smatterings of sirens. Now she was gone, the roof was no longer alive with colour. The swelling, senseless joy from the hard kiss she’d given him before she left was fading. Standing in the darkness, lit only by the sickly orange of the streetlamps below, he wouldn’t have believed it had happened if it wasn’t for the taste of her still on his lips, the tingle at the nape of his neck. But a realisation came: he would never experience anything like that again.

 

He shivered, but couldn’t bring himself to take a step forward. To go back inside was to admit what had really happened. That he had lost control. That he had surrendered his rationality, his caution, his _everything_ to an instinct which, in the blinding heat of the moment had felt so utterly right, but which he knew to be wrong. It was without doubt that once the buzz of the party had abated, Tonks would feel regret at their impulsive mistake. She’d be shocked by the dangerous weakness in him; that he was capable of overstepping the mark like that, that he could take advantage of her vivacious spirit and sully the trust she’d been so generous in bestowing in the first place. Her rejection would be justified, he knew that, but still was unable to stop himself from bowing his head and raking his hands through his hair with the pain of it. 

 

Returning to the house was like entering a different world. They were the same narrow, shadowy corridors as before, but they seemed inexorably altered - as if his life at Grimmauld Place was divided between two states: before he had kissed Tonks and after. He slowly descended, his shock seeming to increase with each step on the ancient ebony carpet. On the third floor, he shrank back. Bill and Fleur were emerging from the lower floors, hand-in-hand and giggling; half-tumbling into one of the spare bedrooms. They didn’t see Remus, who lowered his gaze and hurried past their door and down further. At the top of the stairs leading back down to the basement kitchen, Remus paused as faint music travelled up from beneath the doorframe. It was a warbling, plaintive song that he didn’t know. 

 

_“…stir my cauldron and if you do it right…”_

 

The pit of his stomach tightened and churned with anxiety. How could he face the others? He felt a sudden irrational certainty that they’d be able to read on his face what had happened; that he wasn’t the sensible, unthreatening, _good werewolf_ , he’d purported to be, that he’d taken the youngest female member of the Order up to the roof and….He swallowed, remembering how his hands had travelled over her body, how she’d gasped as he pulled her so close up against him. 

 

So Remus had turned his back and retraced his steps up the dark staircase to his bedroom: where he now stood with his back against the door and his chest heaving. In front of him was the bed and, beside it, a Victorian mirror, cracked at the corners and flecked with black spots. He didn’t want to look at himself, but there he was: face white and looking far older than thirty-five, grey eyes dull and haunted, a sinewy body badly covered in clothes he didn’t even buy himself. He looked up at the ceiling instead, hating the sight of the scarred, dismal figure on the other side of the room. The events of the night passed through his mind again and, just for a second, the same exulted rush of bliss he’d felt when she was kissing him flooded his mind, before he squashed it down again, heart racing. The memory was a mirage, a foolish self-deceit. The alcohol in his system made his recollections unreliable, he told himself. Tonks could not have enjoyed the kiss as much as it had seemed because...how could she? The facts in Remus’ head crumbled under the weight of his shame. The single drink that Tonks had allowed herself on a working night became several. The way she’d tucked her hands behind his neck after running them over his body became a reaction of aversion. Remus remembered how she’d told him once - on that golden winter afternoon in The Scally Wizzbee - that she’d become distant from her old friends. Perhaps that’s what this was: her life had become so enmeshed with the Order that she’d forgotten what was normal, forgotten what Remus really was.

 

Thinking of how she would react when they next saw each other filled him with a sickening dread, but there was something else that frightened him even more: how powerfully he wished she was there with him. He had never felt a want like it before. His eyes flicked, against his will, down to the neatly made bed before him. There was Tonks. He could see her, leaning against his pillows, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, wearing that tight grey dress that clung to every inch of her figure. Her head was cocked to one side and there was a smile on her lips, a knowing look in her dark blue eyes. He shook his head, trying to banish her, but nothing could stop his treacherous body from stiffening with longing once again. 

 

A sudden banging on the door made Remus’ head jerk to the side. An impossible thought seized him…it couldn’t be….

 

“Moony, you in there?” 

 

Sirius’ voice was slurred. The door shuddered beneath his knocking. Remus didn’t move, but ground his teeth together. Since their reconciliation, he had never wanted to see Sirius less than he did in that moment. Remus had been an idiot to let him squeeze the truth of his feelings for Tonks out of him. _“There’s nothing wrong with you fancying Tonks”_ \- how could Sirius possibly understand? He didn’t want to face his probing questions or, even worse, his misguided congratulations. 

 

“Oh come on, it’s me. Open up!” 

 

The banging intensified, then paused. Before the door could be magically unlocked, Remus pointed his own wand and removed it entirely: leaving a smooth, blank wall in its place. Ignoring the confused yell from the other side, Remus crossed the room to his bathroom and shut himself in. He began to undress, trying not to look down at his body and its network of scars: the silver lines, the white uneven gouge marks, the patchwork evidence of the animal rage he inflicted on himself month after month. Worst of all was the uneven, rugged black scar on his side: the stretched outline of a clamping jaw. The idea of Tonks ever seeing it was unconscionable. His desire for her, though it threatened to boil over into insanity, couldn’t be indulged. 

 

In the shower, he let the freezing water pound down on his skin. He forced himself to stay beneath the flaying force of it, despite the skipping sensation in his chest and the chill that settled itself bone-deep. When he could no longer stand it, he stopped the water and, reduced and shivering, wrapped a threadbare towel around himself. 

 

In bed, not knowing if he was waking or sleeping, he shook and turned in the sheets which felt simultaneously thin and suffocating. The memory of her lips on his was a torment. Self-disgust, regret and a passionate want racked him. Sometimes he saw her dear, heart-shaped face crumpled with horror or fear and he pressed his face against the pillow trying to stop himself from screaming his sorriness, but at other times she was moaning in pleasure at the touch of his hands on her bare skin and his erection strained painfully against the sheets. Round and round it went.

 

At some point, his eyes snapped open. He sat up, keen to break the cycle of his nightmares. There was still no light behind his curtain and he knew it couldn’t be far from five in the morning. He took a moment to gather himself: breathing deeply, rubbing his pounding head…praying that Tonks was sleeping peacefully. Then he swung his legs over the side of the bed, dragged himself up to standing and pulled on a set of robes. The only thing he could think to do was return to the basement kitchen which was surely in disarray. He could take a flake of comfort from making himself useful. 

 

Once his bedroom door had been reinstated, Remus headed out into the cold corridor. It was too dark to see the faces of the portraits on the walls, but Remus felt eyes on his back all the same. The unmistakeable sound of weeping made him stop dead. He recognised it immediately as Kreacher but, as he lit his wand and span around, the location of the sound evaded him - almost as if the elf was crouching behind the very walls themselves. The noise of crying gradually faded and Remus continued his journey down the stairs, a prickle of unease raising the hairs on his arms. When he approached the kitchen door, he frowned: a faint light was visible beneath it. They must have forgotten to extinguish the candles down there, he thought, but even as he pushed the door open, he somehow knew that wasn’t what he was about to find. Down in the kitchen the sparklers had long since burnt out. Fred and George’s fireworks lay on the floor, a few still wriggling like beached tadpoles between discarded glasses and plates. The only light came from a pair of flickering candles that stood on the great wooden table, lighting up the face of - 

 

“Sirius?” Remus croaked. “What are you still doing down here?” 

 

“Decided to come out did you?” 

 

Sirius looked up. His eyes were hooded and bloodshot, his skin waxy in the half-light. Remus noticed the empty bottles scattered across the table, the only one still containing any liquid was wrapped tightly in Sirius’ fist. Remus glanced at the clock.

 

“It’s five in the morning. Haven’t you been to bed?”

 

Sirius glared at him between curtains of black hair. Remus walked straight to the cupboards and filled the largest mug he could find with water, before fishing a hunk of bread out of the bread-bin. He set them both down in front of Sirius. 

 

“Drink this. Then eat this. Then go to bed. I’ll make you a tea for when you wake up tomorrow”

 

Sirius snorted, but his eyes were humourless. His voice, when he spoke, was like gravel. 

 

“You and your _fucking_ cups of tea”

 

Remus said nothing, just inclined his head towards the water and bread. 

 

“What happened to you?” Said Sirius, making no move to take them. “You look terrible”

 

Remus remained silent. He knew Sirius’ tendency towards spite when filthy drunk. Telling him about what had really happened that night was impossible. He turned away and began waving his wand, sorting the detritus of the party into ordered piles. He heard an irritable sigh and the unmistakeable sound of swigging as a bottle was knocked back.

 

“Come on, Padfoot. That’s enough” 

 

Remus wheeled around to summon the bottle, but Sirius’ fist closed harder around it, resisting the charm.

 

“Sit down” He growled. 

 

“I’d rather - ”

 

_“Just fucking sit down will you?”_

 

Remus wanted so badly to be alone, but guilt at how he had shut his friend out hours earlier caused him to take a seat. He couldn’t leave Sirius in this state. Sirius vanished the water in the mug in front of him, replaced it with firewhisky and slid it across the table to Remus. 

 

“Words cannot express just how much I do not want to drink that, Padfoot” Said Remus, pushing it to one side with the back of his hand. 

 

As Sirius looked back at him, his eyes like black tunnels, Remus considered the best way to get him upstairs. A stunning spell seemed a little overdramatic, but how else to force his stubbornness to yield? 

 

“You know what really kills me, Moony?” Sirius said, breaking the uneasy quiet. He was breathing deeply, the hollows of his collarbones rising and falling. 

 

“James didn’t even have his wand on him” 

 

Grimmauld Place could have collapsed down on them both and Remus would barely have noticed. His insides were like ice suddenly.

 

“What?” Remus heard himself whisper, though he’d heard perfectly.

 

“When I found him. He didn’t even have his wand on him. I saw it. Just tossed aside on the sofa. He didn’t even have a shot at fighting back” 

 

Grief rolled over Remus in as devastating a wave as when a thirteen-year-old Harry described the scene he had heard after exposure to the Boggart-Dementor ( _“…he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it…”_ ). There was so much that he and Sirius hadn’t spoken about, but now it was finally happening he felt hopelessly unready.

 

“I got to the house” Sirius rasped on. “I practically fell through the door. The roof had caved in, there were beams hanging down. I was running so fast that I nearly tripped over him” 

 

Remus felt rooted to his chair. It was too horrible to hear and he willed for Sirius to stop talking, yet at the same time he was powerless to make it stop. Because he needed it: he needed to hear the full story, for the first time. 

 

“He was lying right by the door. On his back. In this….unnatural way. He was staring straight up at the ceiling” 

 

Remus’ eyes stung. He blinked hard, but didn’t look away from Sirius. 

 

“I’d never seen an expression like that on his face before. He was scared, Moony. He was _terrified_ " 

 

“He was scared for Lily. Scared for Harry” Remus managed to whisper. 

 

“Yeah” Said Sirius, his eyes wide and terrible. “The last thought he had before he died was that Lily and Harry were going to die. Twenty-one years of James Potter - of our best friend - and he ends up like that.  Believing that he’d failed to protect them. Believing that _I’d_ failed to protect them”

 

Remus leant forward, wrapping his arms tight around himself. Sirius swigged from the bottle in a swift, aggressive movement. When he spoke again, his voice was a harsh whisper, almost unrecognisable.

 

“After a while - I don’t know how long - I went upstairs. That’s where Lily was. Crumpled in front of the cot, her hair all…all streaming across her face. On the floor” 

 

Remus wanted to scream at Sirius to stop. It hurt too much. But no words came. From Sirius though, words were streaming as if a damn had burst, as if he needed his friend to bear witness to what only he previously had seen.

 

“I walked towards the cot. I wanted to drop dead right there and then. I was convinced Harry would be….” Sirius rubbed his hands over his face. “But there he was. Looking at up at me. His little face was more confused than anything but after a few seconds he started bawling his eyes out”

 

The miracle of Harry dazed Remus for a moment. Lily and James’ son. Now a headstrong fifteen year old and one of the bravest people Remus had ever known. 

 

“I sat with him. I don’t know how long for. Then Hagrid came and I had to give him away. But…by then…” 

 

There was an unpleasant gleam in Sirius’ eye. 

 

“By then, I knew what I had to do. Find Wormtail. _Find the rat_ ” 

 

“You gave your bike to Hagrid. Why?” Said Remus, voicing a question he’d held onto for fourteen years. 

 

“Too slow” Sirius said slowly, as if reliving the same thought processes of that night. “Too conspicuous. And what was the point? I got that bike for James and me. I don’t ever want to see that thing again” 

 

“How did you find Peter?”

 

“Well, that’s a good question. You wouldn’t know this, of course, but I was holding onto a nice little tracking spell. You need a vial of the person’s blood…to say some incantations at the hour of their birth…the right mix of herbs from Knockturn Alley…that sort of thing. It only works once, but it allows you to track a person from any distance. The fact that I’d created one for Peter was a bit of an afterthought, to be honest. I thought it would come in handy if he ever needed, you know, _rescuing_. The truth is I developed it for you. You were always bleeding for one reason or another, it wasn’t hard to sort out” 

 

“You truly believed I was the spy” 

 

It wasn’t a question. 

 

“Yeah”

 

Though he thought he knew the answer already, Remus couldn’t prevent himself pressing on the wound. He wanted to hear the reasons properly, straight from Sirius’ mouth. 

 

“Why?”

 

“It had to be someone in the inner circle. And that circle was getting smaller by the month. And I had a little rat whispering in my ear, don’t forget. Circumstantial evidence. There were a couple of times when things got really ugly and you were conveniently absent on some mystery mission. The fight in Birmingham. The inferi attack on James’ parents’ place. Peter said - well, he didn’t say it outright, of course, he was a clever rat - he _implied_ that Dumbledore was blind against you because of all those cosy chats you used to have at school. Because you were one of his little projects. And hey, maybe a pureblood upbringing dies hard. Maybe part of me thought…”

 

Sirius shook his head slightly, blinked his eyes heavily and took another swig. He didn’t finish the sentence. Remus was glad of it. That was one thing he didn’t think he wanted to know. 

 

“Why didn’t you try and contact me once you’d found Lily and James? You could have explained about the swap…we could have searched for Peter together…”

 

Sirius frowned. 

 

“It honestly didn’t even occur to me” He said, slowly. “I had to get Wormtail. Kill Wormtail. That’s all I was capable of focusing on” 

 

“So, you found him”

 

“Yeah. He was scuttling along Piccadilly. He had no fucking clue where he was going. I should have just murdered him as soon as I laid eyes on him” Sirius’ hand was twisting around the stem of the bottle. “But I didn’t. I made him change back. I wanted to look into his eyes. To make him suffer. To twist the knife somehow, make him feel something close to the pain I was feeling. After trusting him in the first place, giving him time was my stupidest mistake. But hadn’t we always thought he was the most useless one of the four of us? As if I would ever have expected him to think faster than me, to act faster than me, but he did. The fucking worthless rat did. He puts his wand to his throat and for a second I actually thought he was going to top himself - that his worthless soul felt guilt about murdering James and Lily. Another stupid mistake. He puts _sonorous_ on his throat and yells to the street” Sirius raised his voice in a strangled, high-pitched wail. “‘Lily and James, Sirius - how could you?’…and then there’s blood spurting out towards me…a finger dropping to the ground…and… _boom_ ” 

 

Sirius slammed the bottle down on the table. 

 

“Then I lost it. The rest is just a blur of bodies, blood, dust, screaming…Peter did that. _Little Peter Pettigrew did that_ ”

 

Remus remembered the famous photograph of Sirius, laughing with his wand outstretched, and had to look away; seeing in the face opposite him the ghost of the hysterical twenty-one year old who had to be dragged away from a crater of corpses.

 

“Then the Aurors came. God, I could have killed each and every one of them. I was wild, out of my mind. I fought them. I doubt that helped my case. So…I have a question for you, mate”

 

Remus raised his eyes slowly.

 

“Where were you when all of this was going down? What did you do when you found out the two people you loved most in the world were dead?” 

 

It had been the worst day of his life. The very worst. As one of the only remaining Order members not in hiding by that point in the war, Remus was carrying out increasingly fraught missions in the North: each day bringing an ignominious death closer. That night, he was holed up in a makeshift hideout, tasked by Dumbledore to draft an evacuation strategy for the muggleborns if the Ministry of Magic was to fall. The Ministry was on the brink of toppling and, if that happened, all the official plans would be intercepted. It was depressing work. Defeat felt certain and he was lonely. He missed his friends. At some point on Halloween night, he’d fallen asleep facedown on his parchment. On the bright morning of the first of November, he was awoken by delighted shouting. Dedalus Diggle, trembling with joy, had burst into the room, not bothering with any security questions. All he was able to do was gabble out that somehow, somewhere, You-Know-Who had fallen, before he bounced back out again.

 

Scarcely believing it, fearing some kind of ruse, Remus had run out into the street where wizards and witches were gathering already, murmuring and looking about themselves. Remus had only just begun to pick up on a few phrases - _Godric’s Hollow…the baby_ \- when a letter appeared in his hand. It was in Dumbledore’s hand-writing and the corners curled with phoenix fire: Remus wouldn’t have believed it from any other source. Dumbledore explained it all as gently as the circumstances allowed. He regretted he couldn’t be there to comfort Remus in person. He implored him to let legal justice take its course. He appealed to his better nature. He advocated for calmness in the face of the most terrible loss. But Dumbledore’s priority was, of course, coordinating Harry’s removal from Godric’s Hollow. And what with the Auror members of the first Order of the Phoenix flocking to capture the traitor and everyone else beginning their celebrations, there was no one to stop Remus from cracking. And he did. His knees buckled. His mouth opened and an awful sound came out. And for the first and only time in his life, his own desire was perfectly aligned with that of the wolf. They wanted blood and violence. They wanted to destroy a human being. His need for vengeance that day had been nothing like what he’d felt in the Shrieking Shack as he’d looked down at the cringing wreck of Peter Pettigrew - that had been cold deliberation, a chill logical decision to seek quick and efficient justice - no, Sirius’ treachery and the explosion of grief for Lily and James had filled him with a fury he never imagined to be possible. He felt he could have torn out his former friend’s throat with his bare hands.

 

“I was coming to kill you”

 

If he had ever thought that telling Sirius this would be cathartic, he was wrong. Remembering it and speaking it aloud, made him feel unclean. But Sirius nodded. There was a grim sort of satisfaction in his face.

 

“But I had no idea where you were and barely any way of tracking you. I headed for London. As strange as it sounds, my goal was to find Grimmauld Place. I remembered your descriptions of how well-protected it was and I suppose I thought that if you’d been turned, your childhood home wouldn’t have been such an unpleasant place for you after all. Not particularly clever. But it was the only lead I had. And I had to start somewhere if I was going to find you before the Aurors did” 

 

“You were single minded” Said Sirius, his gaze almost hungry as he stared into Remus’ pale face. 

 

Remus nodded. 

 

“All you wanted was to make the traitor pay”

 

Remus nodded again. The feeling of uncleanliness intensifying. 

 

“If you’d been a better avenger, you might have found me” There was an almost mocking gleam in Sirius’ eyes, his words slurring all the more. “You might have killed me! Imagine that!”

 

“I’d rather not”

 

“Another question” Said Sirius, the vague mockery in his tone now sharpening into something else. 

 

“You could have come to Azkaban, if you’d tried. Dumbledore could have pulled some strings to allow you a visit. But you didn’t try, did you? I thought you - out of everyone who was left - might come. I thought that you, Moony - always the one to dwell on things the longest, always the fair one - that you would have doubts. I thought you’d eventually want to come and see me. But thoughts like that are too much like hopes and hopes barely survive the first day in Azkaban. So. Why didn’t you come?”

 

Remus paused to gather himself and then told the truth:

 

“I honestly never even considered visiting you”

 

Sirius’ eyes flashed.

 

“You killed Lily, James, Peter and a street full of people. You made Harry an orphan. You passed on intelligence that led to the deaths of your comrades. The Sirius I had known didn’t exist. You were a stranger to me. Perhaps it was cowardly, but seeing your face was utterly unthinkable”

 

Sirius’ jaw was hard as his voice shook, not with grief this time, but with suppressed anger. 

 

“So you thought I’d been bad all along did you? That I was…what? Biding my time for ten whole years? Pretending to care about you all, playing some twisted long game?”

 

“No” Remus sighed. “But, believe me, I obsessed over that question for a long time. In the end, I decided that it was the war that had turned you. Nothing else made sense. Voldemort must have got to you, promised you something you couldn’t resist, tempted you somehow…But I still lambasted myself as a fool for never realising, for missing the earlier clues, for not seeing that the potential had always been there. I was entirely wrong of course, but - ”

 

“Wait - what? ‘Always there’? What the hell does that mean?”

 

There was an ugly look on Sirius’ face as he stared Remus down.

 

“Well” Remus said, trying to keep his tone measured. “As I said I was entirely wrong. But…there was a time that you committed a betrayal of sorts. I suppose I looked back at that incident as evidence”

 

“What? Not - ” Sirius gave a humourless laugh, one arm causing a bottle to crash to the floor, though he didn’t seem to notice. “You can’t mean the prank on Snivellus, _surely_? We were sixteen! That doesn’t bloody count. We made peace on that score anyway. I professed my heartfelt regret didn’t I?”

 

Sirius kneaded his temples, bowing his curtain of black hair over his face. Remus angled his wand from beneath the table in an attempt to vanish the bottle which now contained only an amber sliver of booze. Before he could succeed, Sirius’ head snapped up:

 

“I want to know about the funeral” 

 

Remus breathed out and shook his head. He felt exhausted from all the demons they’d exhumed.

 

“Sirius, I think it would be better if we went to bed. We can talk more in the morning. Anytime. I promise you, I’ll tell you about Lily and James’ funeral soon but - ”

 

“No” 

 

Sirius swigged the last remaining firewhisky. His eyes were a little unfocused now. 

 

“Not that funeral. From what I’ve heard you were off your face at Lily and James’ anyway. I want you to tell me about Wormtail’s funeral” 

 

“Wormtail’s funeral?” Remus whispered, aghast.

 

Sirius leaned forward over the table. 

 

“Was everyone crying and wailing over a finger-sized coffin? Were you sitting there shedding a tear? Did Dumbledore deliver a speech about how sweet Peter Pettigrew had been so noble, so brave? Whilst they threw away my key, whilst I FUCKING ROTTED?”  

 

As Sirius strained his throat shouting the last words, he leapt to his feet and hurled the glass bottle at the wall behind Remus’ head. It exploded sending shards of glass darting away at all angles. Sirius then seized his chair in both hands, raised it above his head and smashed it down against the wooden floor. Then he swayed violently on the spot. Remus rushed around the table, ignoring the crush of shards beneath his feet, and caught Sirius by the shoulders before he fell. Sirius was alarmingly light for a man as tall as he was. Sirius hands’ gripped Remus’ arms in return, bruisingly hard. 

 

“We have to forgive each other, Sirius” Said Remus, his voice cracking a little, as he supported him. “We have to - ”

 

“Why aren’t you angry?” Sirius demanded, shaking Remus slightly, his breath hot and thick with the smell of whisky. “I killed them. It was my fault. Why aren’t you angry with me?”

 

“Because I would have done the same as you” Said Remus, in a strained whisper, staring into Sirius’ face. “Peter didn’t only trick you, he tricked James, Lily, Dumbledore, everyone. _We have to forgive each other_ ”

 

“I thought we already did” 

 

“No harm in doing it again” Said Remus, forcing a stoical smile, though he felt like sobbing. “Ten times over if we need to. Whatever it takes, old friend” 

 

Sirius nodded tiredly, his rage broken. He dropped his hands from Remus and looked down at the floor. He was starting to look a little green. 

 

“Fucking hell, I feel atrocious” He whispered. 

 

“I’m not surprised, Padfoot”

 

Getting Sirius from the basement to his room was laborious but they made it eventually. Sirius flopped onto his bed, not bothering to pull the sheets over himself, and groaned irritably as Remus chivvied him onto his side. Longing for solitude, Remus went to leave but Sirius spoke and, though his voice was muffled, its tone was as sharp as it had been the last time he had said the same words to Remus:

 

“They can’t keep me locked in here forever” 

 

“I know, Padfoot. I know” 

Remus sank to the floor and sat with his back against the side of Sirius’ four-poster bed.

 

“I have to get out of this place”

 

“The day will come. I promise you” 

 

“Sometimes it feels like I’m back in my old cell…I hear the screams at night…the rattling…the waves crashing against the tower…”

 

“Never again. Anyone who wants to return you to that place will have to kill me first” 

 

Sirius’ breathing gradually deepened and slowed until Remus knew he’d fallen into unconsciousness. He remained sitting on the floor, head resting on the embroidered quilt where it overhung the bed. There was an ache in his heart that was almost physical. James would have known what to say. The Order seemed to look to Remus as some sort of pacifier, a calming presence on a room, but the truth was that he had no idea how to help Sirius. He had no idea how to help himself. Trying to talk about what had happened in the past had just tangled things further; made the memories all the worse. The war that had torn them apart was still raging. It felt like it would never end. 

 

He closed his eyes and, for the very first time, willingly summoned thoughts of Tonks. She was like a bright herald in the darkness and though he knew it would hurt all the more later, he surrendered to his feelings. He yearned for her, for every aspect of her. How he wished that he could spend all day simply listening to her talk: enjoying the hilarious energy of her anecdotes, the unshakeable moral core that made her so confident (and so stubborn); or that he could see her face right in that very moment, so breathtakingly alive and beautiful no matter what silly nose she morphed onto it; or - most impossibly of all - that he could touch her again, could feel her soft skin, could kiss her and forget that he had ever felt pain. But her revulsion and embarrassment was certain and, more importantly, was right. Remus saw himself for what he was: condemned to primal otherness by the curse that had lived in his blood and in his head since he was four years old but, and as if that wasn’t enough, his talk with Sirius had proven that his heart was damaged too, by the legacy of violence and grief that had twisted them both into two troubled men that he felt certain Lily and James would scarcely recognise. Beneath his closed eyelids, Remus could tell that the blackness of the room was starting to turn a lighter shade of blue. He kept trying to focus on the image of Tonks’ sparkling eyes as she beamed up at him but it was fading, retreating into nothingness. He couldn’t hold onto her. 

 

The mattress wobbled against Remus’ neck; Sirius had turned over.

 

“Mate” He mumbled, almost unintelligibly. “How’d it go with Tonks?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely reviewers and kudos-givers! I hope you enjoyed this (very angsty) chapter - let me know what you think if you get a chance :)


	13. Monsters, Part 1

**Chapter 12: Monsters, Part 1**

 

“Oi! Break it up!”

 

Tonks coughed through a cloud of feathers: two owls were at war on her kitchen table. On wearily coming home to her flat - and first stumbling over a pair of unfortunately placed wellington boots on her doormat - Tonks had discovered Mildred in a vicious altercation with a terrified-looking barn owl. The small apartment rang with their screeches and chitters as they slashed and pecked at each other, sending dirty mugs skidding off the table and onto the floor. Narrowly avoiding some talon-induced puncture wounds, Tonks eventually managed to clamp her hands around Mildred’s middle, stop her flapping and lift her away. 

 

“Why can’t you play nicely?” She said into the fluffy whorl of Mildred’s ear. 

 

Mildred clicked her beak irritably and flailed her sharp feet uselessly in mid-air. Tonks aimed the owl towards her favourite spot amongst the dusty spirit bottles on top of the fridge and let her go. Before she could offer her apologies to the affronted barn owl, it had shaken its leg to dislodge the trampled letter it had been carrying and taken off into the night. Tonks’ kitchen table hadn’t seen a cleaning spell for longer than she’d care to admit and the letter was sticky, a few feathers clinging to a smear of jam at its corner, but Tonks seized it and held to her chest, feeling joy bubbling up within her. She knew the neat, exact handwriting that spelled out simply Tonks on the envelope. She bit her lip as her stomach gave a pleasurable whirl. Her eyes closed involuntarily, remembering soft lips and strong hands, before she snapped out of the reverie and began ripping the seal. 

 

A week had passed since the kiss on the roof and she hadn’t heard a peep from Remus, nor had she herself successfully reached him. She’d never been much of a letter writer at the best of times and whenever she managed to steal a quick moment with a quill, the right words just wouldn't come: “Great snog, let’s do it again sometime”; “Loved the fireworks last week - the view from the roof wasn’t bad either!”; “I’ve only gone and fallen for you, Moony - fancy going for a pint?”. Ugh - straight into the bin. She’d stopped by Headquarters whenever she got the chance, but every time was greeted by an uncharacteristically listless Sirius and a distinct lack of his soft-spoken schoolfriend. Then the Ministry of Magic had one of its bright ideas: Fudge, desperate to keep up appearances with the international wizarding community, had Scrimgeour send them all off to Finland to learn the latest, trendiest techniques in defensive magic. Tonks had to bite her tongue to stop herself telling him exactly what she thought of the frankly bonkers decision to send every member of their elite fighting force out of the country all at the same time. Now she was finally home again - Arctic snow still on the shoulders of her robes - and a letter from Remus was there waiting for her. She shimmied it out of the envelope and unfolded it:

 

_Dear Tonks,_

_It is difficult to write these words, but I must. I need to apologise for what happened between us on New Year’s Eve. I want you to know how deeply I regret the way I behaved. Having been immeasurably fortunate to have gained your trust and friendship these past months, it pains me more than I can express to have squandered them both by my indiscretion. Blaming alcohol would be cowardly. I blame only myself. The last thing I want is for you to feel awkward or uncomfortable around me, so I have arranged for our mission patterns to be separate from now on. You will always have my utmost respect and admiration, whether or not I have your forgiveness._

_RJL_

 

“What?” She breathed.

 

She read it again. She tried to hear it in his voice, but couldn’t. It was so flat. So rushed. So strangled. Blood rushed to Tonks’ cheeks. It didn’t make any sense. The most glorious kiss of her life and he regretted it. The most beautiful explosion of emotion, the culmination of the feelings they’d been dancing around for so long, and he regretted it. _He regretted it_. Pulling out her kitchen chair so roughly that it screeched across the floor, she sat down hard. There was a painful lump lodged in her throat and she clamped her lips together, breathing through her nose. She read the letter through again. ‘Indiscretion’. ‘Blame’. ‘Forgiveness’. She hated each and every word of the thing.

 

“What the hell, Remus?” 

 

Tonks shook her head, tugging at the spikes of her hair. The letter bore no resemblance to what had actually happened. How could he have convinced himself that this was the truth? That he was some sort of… _lecherous colleague_? She didn’t know what kind of vortex of self-pity and denial had vomited up this utter drivel, but - Tonks squeezed her hands into determined fists - she wasn’t going to let Remus rewrite history. When they had kissed each other, they had been happy - more than that, they had been _free_. That was the truth and it was the only truth that mattered. Tonks crumpled up the letter and stuffed it into the pocket of her robes. She didn’t know what had gone wrong since leaving him on the roof of Grimmauld Place, but she was going to get to the bottom of it. It seemed that grabbing him by the collar and kissing him hard hadn’t been enough to assuage the doubt in his eyes but, Tonks thought with a strange thrill, the lump in her throat now gone, she could think of a few other ways to prove herself. She didn’t care that it was late, she didn’t care that her body ached from training, she was going to march right into Grimmauld Place - right into his bedroom if she had to - look straight into those grey eyes and—

 

_WHOOSH_

 

Tonks’ fireplace burst apart in a violent flare of black flame. She leapt to her feet, shielding her head with one forearm and drawing her wand. It only took her a second to realise what was happening. Black flames meant only one thing: the call for the Aurors to assemble; a national emergency. The Ministry was exercising its might - in a state of emergency - to take over the fireplaces closest to every Auror with a portal that would admit only them. Tonks swore as the possibilities streamed through her mind: mass casualties in the streets; a hostage situation; or perhaps, she gripped her wand tightly and gulped, the discovery of a wanted fugitive. She wasted no time and dived into the black flames, which enfolded her in instant darkness. She tucked her arms in tight as the spinning began to intensify, wishing keenly that Sirius hadn’t gone and done something stupid. 

 

The flames expelled her straight into the Ministry atrium. She heard the suck of air as her fellow Aurors, from whom she’d only been parted for less than thirty minutes, arrived all around her. Together they ran. Beside the circular pool of the golden fountains, stood Scrimgeour - glaring from between his tawny mane of hair, his legs apart and his shoulders rolled forward. In battle mode. Beside him was an ashen-faced Fudge - fully dressed but with an evidently forgotten nightcap perched on his head. Fudge was attempting to pull his sleeve out of the clutches of a man dressed in the marl grey robes that Tonks recognised as belonging to the human guards who occupied the watch towers near Azkaban. The man was speaking in a strained voice, its volume rising and falling erratically. What she heard made Tonks’ blood run cold. 

 

“….they wouldn’t listen…wouldn’t _act_ ….just glided and watched as the bricks, th-they started to fall, and the prisoners they…they…”

 

“We’ve heard enough! Out of my sight!” Scrimgeour roared at the man, prising his fingers from Fudge’s robes. 

 

As security wizards led him away, the man looked desperate. He tried to lock eyes with the assembled Aurors, appealing to them.

 

“The dementors aren’t with us!” He half-shrieked from down the corridor. “They aren’t on our side!”

 

“Aurors!” Scrimgeour bellowed over the noise, using his bulk to block out the sight of the grey-robed man who was now being forcibly dragged off. “Fifteen minutes ago, ten former Death Eaters escaped Azkaban prison”

 

A physical ripple passed across them all: a wave of swearing, gasping, growling and the sound of skin twisting on wand hilts. Sirius was okay, but Tonks could feel no relief. She felt like a coiled spring: her heart pounding in a gut-punch combination of dread and adrenaline. She risked a look at Kingsley and their eyes met. Though his gaze was as steady as ever, his face had a curiously frozen quality. They both knew, and it was as if they silently agreed, that this was going to change everything. Scrimgeour began to list the names of the ten Death Eaters - one of which made Tonks shout out involuntarily as terror gripped her:

 

“Sir - my parents - they’ll need protection!” 

 

Though Tonks had yelled loudly, her words became merged in a cacophony of similar shouts all around her: Smith whose father had been one of the Aurors to jail Dolohov crying out the same request as Tonks; Flowers whose sister had been murdered due to information passed by Rookwood vowing bloody revenge. Scrimgeour bared his teeth and held up a hand for silence. Tonks closed her mouth but the sight of a burnt hole in a tapestry bearing her mother’s name swam behind her eyes. 

 

“A portion of you will be sent onto household protection assignments to provide security for the convicts’ possible targets” 

 

Scrimgeour barked a sequence of Auror names and assigned each one to a family. The Auror assigned to the Tonkses - McDougall who had taught her antidotes back in Auror college - gave Tonks a nod, which she returned gratefully, trying to calm the heaving of her chest, before he ran for the fireplaces. 

 

“The strategy team will be with me, leading from Shacklebolt’s investigation office. There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind who we can blame for this breakout”

 

Tonks stared at Scrimgeour.

 

“He’s done it once before and I’ll wager Black’s been planning this ever since…we’re no longer hunting one murdering piece of filth, but eleven. We shall merge the investigations. Everyone else, you’re deployed for flight around the North Sea. They may well be too weak to apparate and so could still perhaps be in the area around Azkaban. Track them…gather any clues you can find…capture them if you can. Dead or alive” 

 

Scrimgeour waved his thick wand. The pockets of the assembled Aurors’ robes became heavy with equipment and wide, powerful broomsticks - complete with balances for inclement weather - wedged themselves in their fists.

 

“Move out!” 

 

“And for goodness sake, don’t speak to the press!” Cried Fudge.

 

It was the first and only time he had spoken. Scrimgeour shot the Minister a quick, undisguised look of impatience, before turning away and striding towards the lifts that would take him to the Auror Office. Tonks followed, with Kingsley at her side, but Scrimgeour soon turned his lion-like head towards her. 

 

“Auror Tonks, you are on tracking. Not strategy” 

 

“Sir, I’m part of the Black investigation”

 

“Not anymore you’re not” Said Scrimgeour, not breaking his stride. “Why do you suppose you’ve been given tracking equipment? I’m assigning Dawlish to replace you. We need experience for an investigation of this magnitude” 

 

Sure enough, Dawlish passed Tonks, turning quickly with a look of determined satisfaction on his face. Kingsley kept walking a few paces ahead, but Tonks knew he was listening.

 

“But sir - ” She started.

 

“Exactly how many family members have you got on the run now?” Scrimgeour snapped from over his shoulder. “I would say that makes you a liability” 

 

Tonks’ temper rumbled. She was a liability was she? More of a liability than Scrimgeour and his endless capitulation to Fudge? More of a liability than the Head of the Auror Office’s constant prioritisation of ambition over the safety of the people? Now everyone - every single person that Tonks loved - was in countless times more danger than they were only a few hours ago. She stopped short, shaking with rage, and projected her voice towards Scrimgeour’s back. 

 

“With all due respect, _sir_ , it wasn’t me that gave the order to send the entire Auror team off on training at the same time. I don’t reckon this is a coincidence, do you? 

 

Scrimgeour wheeled around and advanced towards Tonks, thrusting his face close to hers. 

 

“You have a lot of opinions for a _junior_ , Auror Tonks” He hissed. 

 

Tonks kept her expression as neutral as possible, but mentally kicked herself with her heaviest of Doc Martin’s. She knew that talking back had been a dangerous mistake. Scrimgeour’s eyes were slitted with anger and she could see each detail of his face: the golden lines in his irises, the grey curls at the base of his scalp.

 

“I’m giving you a warning for this. Now take my advice - follow the orders you’re given and keep your mouth _shut_ ”

 

———

 

If Tonks had thought that her pride had taken a battering that night, her body was to receive the same treatment. Flying on a broom above the North Sea in gale force winds and lashing rain made for a rough night of tracking. When she looked down through the clouds, flashes of lightning illuminated wild and restless waves, surging in squalls as high as skyscrapers. The Death Eaters had chosen the night of their escape well, Tonks thought bitterly. There wasn’t the slightest trace of the escapees, which was no surprise: the Aurors had been far too slow. Tonks flew, her muscles tense and stiff with cold, along cliff edges, over oil rigs, above lonely shipping vessels, occasionally seeing the tiny outline of a fellow Auror far away in the dark distance, without the faintest trace of the ten Death Eaters. Before the call to return came, Tonks couldn’t stop herself: she wanted to see it for herself. 

 

The tower of Azkaban stood tall, bright as ivory when lit by a shock of lightning, the waves crashing and splitting around it. Though it seemed unreal, this was where Sirius had lived for twelve years; where he had once slipped through the bars and plunged into the sea. Squinting, not wanting to fly too close, Tonks could see the rupture at the top of the structure: like a giant fist had ripped through the stone. The dementors glided smoothly in and out of it, like black wasps, the weather barely even rustling their cloaks. People were going to die because of this. _Ice-veined monsters_ \- those were the words her mother had used. Tonks let out a guttural shout of frustration - thinking of one monster in particular. One who had once been a little girl with her own mother. This thought gave Tonks a chill far more piercing than the January weather.

 

——

 

So began ten days of intensive search and tracking. The Aurors were sent in all directions, following increasingly bizarre ‘leads’ from the strategy team: Tonks watched Downing Street through omnioculars; dredged a canal in the fens; snuck into an abandoned warehouse with Finlay Savage (succeeding only in thoroughly freaking out a gaggle of smoking teenagers); and inspected a match of the West Ham muggle football team. Whenever they had spare hours, they were spent trying to get some sleep on the floor of the Auror office - whilst the Daily Prophet clippings on the walls silently screamed down at them. Tonks didn’t like to think herself paranoid but now that she’d pissed Scrimgeour off and been hit with a warning, she could have sworn the worst missions and longest hours were coming her way. And it was impossible to speak to Kingsley alone - Dawlish seemed to cling to him like stink sap. The Aurors were effectively kept under lock-and-key, meaning that any attempt to contact the Order of the Phoenix was far too risky. Tonks felt like a part of her had been chopped off. 

 

She thought of Remus constantly: every tread of her boots on the ground; every soar of her broom up into the sky; every glance at the moon. In her quiet moments, lying in her sleeping bag with heavy and sore limbs, surrounded by the snores and rustles of her colleagues, she yearned simply to be able to speak to him. She would have felt betrayed by his dishonesty if she hadn’t realised that the person he was really lying to was himself. She wished she had never got his letter, that its empty words could just be forgotten about and they could get on with being themselves. With being together. She’d had a glimpse, a taste, of what lay beneath the many layers of reserve he wrapped himself up in. But how to get him to open up again - for real this time? She knew, and it made her cringe with worry, that - though Arthur would surely have told him all about the Aurors working crazy hours and being holed up at the Ministry - Remus would still find a way of taking her silence as confirmation of his insecurity; that rotten insecurity she wished she could explode. Her greatest comfort came when she managed to blag ten minutes in the fireplace with her parents. They knelt on the hearthrug - behind them a warm, immaculate sitting room - her mum pale but defiant, her dad cracking jokes from the first hello. Their only fear was for her, they kept none for themselves. They held hands and Tonks noticed how Ted stroked his rough, thick fingers across Andromeda’s thin manicured ones. They looked strong, Tonks thought, the threat and trouble pushing them closer together. They made her heart swell. And grow stronger.

 

————

 

Scrimgeour and Fudge finally had to accept that the Aurors were burning out when Flowers, after drinking one too many invigoration drafts, had gone on a rampage and crashed his broom into Big Ben. Multiple fractures and memory charms later, they began granting nights off. Tonks’ final shift before freedom was an evening spent watching the main entrances and exits of the Ministry of Magic from the sky. Her hair was morphed into a neon pink quiff with short-back-and-sides, but it was concealed beneath the hood of a heavy cloak. The tips of her fingers and her face were the only parts of her that were exposed and both were pink with cold. Her Ministry-issued omnioculars weren’t as good as her favourite surveillance contraption, the Moody-le-scope that she and Remus had used to watch Malfoy Manor, but they did the job. The seconds went past sluggishly and Tonks jiggled her knees on her broom. She’d be relieved from her post in just a few minutes. 

 

The final Ministry workers poured out into the evening streets - grumpy and harassed looking - and set off for their usual dark corners to apparate home or else headed to Charing Cross for the Leaky Cauldron to drown their sorrows. A thin, lankily-built man emerged slowly from the staff entrance and Tonks recognised him immediately. With a jolt that was half-pleasure, half-pain she was brought straight back to the afternoon spent in a hedge with Remus on their first mission together. This chap - Johnstone - had received a hefty bribe from Lucius Malfoy. Now he was rubbing the scrubby blond beard at his chin and mopping his brow of sweat despite the cold weather. He began to walk, looking repeatedly back over his shoulder. Tonks began to fly slowly, following his progress towards Embankment station. He slipped down a side street, through a group of muggles clustered around the entrance to a pub, and approached a small tree-lined square. After several rapid looks about him until he was satisfied no one was looking (which made Tonks, from her perch high above, smirk), he whispered a few words, placed his wand to the tree, and then…vanished. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Tonks clicked the omnioculars into rewind and watched it over again: it wasn’t like apparition, he had slipped downwards, like the ground itself had swallowed him up. Tonks frowned. She didn’t like it. A Ministry man taking bribes from Lucius Malfoy and entering what was surely an illegal underground… _something_. Though she felt a brief pang of mourning for the loss of her night off, it didn’t take Tonks long to make up her mind. First though, she had to deal with Finlay Savage - he was flying towards her to relieve her of duty, a quizzical expression on his face.

 

“Er, Tonks - I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re actually several metres away from the watch-point”

 

“Right. Yeah” Said Tonks, loftily. “Listen, Finlay - what do you know about Johnstone? You know - tall guy, sort of blond, bit of a creep that time at the Christmas party?”

 

“That perv you nearly got fired? Not much, to be honest” Said Finlay, nonplussed. “He works for the Ministry’s underground maintenance division, doesn’t he? The muggles started tinkering around down there again, building another frickin’ train line, so they expanded the team to stop it from smashing through the bottom floor of the Ministry”

 

Tonks’ heart started to beat more heavily.

 

“I thought he worked for the post room” She called out slowly. 

 

“Nah. Well, I don’t know. Maybe he used to?” Finlay shrugged, starting to look uneasy. “Why are you so interested anyway? We’re ‘sposed to be watching the entrance”

 

Tonks flicked her wand from beneath her robes. Finlay blinked. 

 

“See you later, mate! Off you go!” She exclaimed, grinning and patting him on the shoulder; swallowing down her guilt at using the confundus charm on someone who was supposedly a friend.

 

“Sure, have a good one” He smiled back, before turning and flying to the watch-point. 

 

Tonks’ mind was buzzing. Could it be that Lucius Malfoy was moving ministry staff around like chess pieces? Trying to get the men in his pocket into strategic positions? And what did he want with the underground maintenance team? The whole thing stank. The Order needed to know. Tonks pulled the miniature portrait out of her robes. Great-Great-Great Aunt Griselda looked scandalised, as usual. Tonks rubbed some of the rain off the painting with her sleeve, Griselda dived behind her chair in a flurry of heavy skirts.

 

“Listen!” Tonks shouted. “I need back up from Headquarters. Tell Sirius to send someone - whoever’s around. I’m hovering above the Hungerford Bridge - North West side - and I’ve spotted something fishy. I’ll explain everything when they get here” 

 

Griselda shuffled off. Tonks waited, staring down through the omnioculars at the tree but there was no sign of activity. On hearing a faint crack, she spun around on her broom. She knew instantly from the look of the distant shape through the clouds that it was him. Her heart leapt and her stomach felt like a whirlpool of butterflies. Of course it was him. After weeks of fears, fantasies and imagined conversations, there he was. His light brown hair was blowing in the wind and his slim frame looked vulnerable in the threadbare robes which barely protected him from the rain. She felt the strangest combination of emotions. It was everything all at once. Memories played behind her eyes like a muggle film: the neat handwriting spelling out words she detested, but also his smile as he beamed at her beneath showers of colour; his laugh over a bottle of wine and a board of wizard scrabble. As he drew nearer, she saw how different he looked to the night of the party. Strained, exhausted - even a little nervous. As soon as they were in earshot of one another, he began apologising. 

 

“Tonks, I - I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come had there been anyone else to take my place” 

 

Tonks opened her mouth to speak but he, staring fixedly at some point in the distance, continued:

 

“All I can do is reiterate the sentiments of my letter. I’m truly sorry”

 

Tonks flipped her hood down, ignoring the cold sting on her bare ears and not caring that she probably looked like a drowned rat, her pink quiff lying flat against the side of her forehead. As she flew up close to him, her knee bumping against his, Remus was still speaking:

 

“I’d like to be able to draw a line under everything and go back to the healthy professional relationship we had before, but I understand if - ”

 

“Remus, would you shut up?”

 

He did. His mouth shut mid-sentence. He looked so utterly despondent that it would have been funny had the sadness and dread in his eyes not pierced Tonks’ heart. She had no time to think through her words, no time at all to plan them out. All she could do was shout over the wind.

 

“It was a bloody brilliant kiss and you know it!” 

 

Their eyes met then and the effect was more electric than ever before. Tonks felt her breath disappear. Remus looked younger than she’d ever seen him suddenly and so startled that he looked as if he could fall off his broom at any moment. And no wonder - it was skinny insubstantial wood that was juddering in the wind, nothing like Tonks’ Ministry-issued all weatherer. She grabbed its handle and held it steady. 

 

“I don’t know what you remember but _this_ \- ” 

 

With her other hand, Tonks pulled the crumpled remains of his letter out of her robes and brandished it at him. He stared at it, his eyes wide.

 

“ _This_ is not what I remember! You didn’t overstep any kind of boundary, you didn't disrespect me, you didn’t do anything that I wasn’t willing and raring to do myself - okay? Your letter is utter bollocks” 

 

The parchment in her hand burst into pink flames. Tonks let the flaming, cerise shards scatter in the winds around them, rubbing her hands to be rid of them. Remus was fighting for control over his expression, but Tonks saw the raw delight in his eyes; the ghost of a disbelieving but delighted smile and she grinned at him and laughed - her worry and hurt vanished into the breeze with the despised letter. Though the winds jostled their brooms, they were close to each other and, if she didn’t know that it was guaranteed to send them both plunging to their deaths, she would have leapt straight onto his dilapidated old broom and kissed him. She could see the hunger in his gaze, how he looked at her face as if drinking her in, convincing himself she was real. Desire bubbled up in Tonks and her skin, though buried beneath a stack of clothing layers, prickled with a longing for his touch. She reached for his hand. His fingers were like ice. They closed gently around hers and for second they didn’t move. Remus and Tonks looked at each other, 200 metres above the ground, hand-in-hand in the sky. But then, as if jolted awake by the feeling of her skin on his, Remus blinked. His fingers slackened, pulled back and in scarcely a second were raking through his hair. Tonks’ smile dropped at the same time as his eye contact. 

 

“Tonks” 

 

His voice was quiet and stolen by the roar of the wind, but she knew what he had said regardless. Then came two words she knew were wrenched out of himself and which hit her heart like an avalanche.

 

“I’m sorry”

 

She hovered on her broom, hanging on for more. If he gave her more, she could fight him: argue each and every point until she was blue in the face because she knew how he really felt. But nothing came. Remus looked lost, staring down at the river below them. With all the control she could muster, Tonks pulled her hand back too and flipped her hood back over her head, flying backwards a little. She wasn’t going to give up; she burned to make her case to him and wouldn’t rest until she got the opportunity, but first -

 

“Well. We’ve got a job to do” She said, squaring her shoulders. 

 

He nodded stiffly. With effort, she explained it all - what she’d seen, what it could mean, why she called for back-up - in a voice that didn’t sound much like her own. Remus nodded politely throughout. He acted as if they were strangers to one another but, despite the gulf he was trying to put between them, it was still Remus. It was still those same unknowable grey eyes, the same haggard handsomeness that only he could pull off, the same friend she wanted to be able to speak freely with so badly she could have screamed. Even in the midst of the maelstrom of feelings inside her, part of her felt simply happy to be near him again: the strange sense of peace and rightness she always felt around him had survived unscathed. 

 

They flew down through the fog into the small gathering of trees by the pub. Closing time had been and gone so the square was deserted. They stashed their brooms and concealed them in the paving slabs beneath a parking meter. Now that they were on solid ground, Tonks removed any mark of the Ministry from her robes and morphed her face: ruddy cheeks, shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, a long nose, crows feet, a scar on her lip, black eyes.

 

“This is it” Said Tonks, her voice still sounding odd and awkward to her ears. She led him to the tree and drew a veil of concealment around them. “He just sort of…slid down underground from right here”

 

Remus drew nearer to the tree and squatted down at its base, running a hand over the wet ground.

 

“Yes. There’s something here” He said quietly. “Some kind of…gateway...I can’t be sure...” 

 

Tonks crouched down beside him, feeling cold mud seeping all the way through the knees of her black jeans to the thermals beneath. Remus was frowning in concentration.

 

“We used to get past concealment charms like this at Hogwarts” He whispered.

 

He began to tap the bark, his lips moving noiselessly. Cracking magical codes was clearly something the teenage Remus Lupin had enjoyed; there was something so boyish about the look on his face in that moment that Tonks, though the sting of his withdrawal was still fresh, found her lips twitching up in a faint smile. 

 

“Can you break it?” She asked.

 

“I think so. Though I wish I had Sirius here - his skill with code manipulation charms wouldn’t go amiss. Or...well...James for that matter. He was always surprisingly neat when breaking jinxes apart”

 

She leant forward, flashes of colour and blasts of heat occasionally rising as Remus’ wand hacked away at the protections. On seeing the rhythm and technique with which he worked, she raised her own wand and helped him. The odd fat drop of rain landed in their hair and on their clothes from between the thin branches above their heads. With something to concentrate on, Remus visibly relaxed. He started to meet her eyes again, though she knew that his newfound ease came in part because she no longer looked like herself. 

 

“That’s it” He breathed. “It’s open, I think”

 

Tonks nodded, her excitement growing. There was a low hum coming from the ground below the tree. And she could see something: a dark hole, a rupture in the mud - an entrance. 

 

“Nice one”

 

Tonks leant forward over the hole, curiosity seizing her with a sudden irrational desire to hurl herself down.

 

“Perhaps a plan first?” Said Remus, looking a little alarmed as if sensing her thoughts.

 

“Yeah. Course” She said, shifting impatiently. “I guess I’m a little trigger happy tonight. It’s been weeks of wild goose chases and now we’ve actually got a proper lead” 

 

She pointed her wand into the shaft and invisible tendrils of a measuring spell streamed down into it. Tonks counted the seconds until it returned. She gave a low whistle.

 

“Crikey - that’s almost half a mile. A tunnel judging by the shape of it. Heading South West”

 

Remus looked over Tonks’ shoulder into the distance.

 

“That could reach...” he started slowly.

 

“The Ministry!” Tonks grabbed his arm and shook it in her excitement. “A tunnel underground leading to the Ministry! And the lowest floor of the Ministry has the - “

 

“- Department of Mysteries on it” Remus finished. “So they can get to the Hall of Prophecies without meeting us on guard duty”

 

“Bingo! That’s it! Cause they’re getting desperate. Everything they’ve tried so far hasn’t worked, has it?”

 

“They could take hostages down there…or use it as an escape route…” Remus said, brow furrowed.

 

“Yeah! Anything like that! Remus - this is _huge_ ”

 

The two of them looked at one another, trying to process the implications of what they had discovered. 

 

“I say we go for it!” She said. 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Let’s go down there! Capture Johnstone and use him as evidence”

 

Remus stared back into her morphed face, weighing up the decision. Then he pointed his wand down into the hole: _Homenum Revelio_. There was only one person down there. Ripe for the arresting.

 

“Come on” Tonks entreated. “Let’s check it out. I’ll arrest him whilst you cover me, then we modify his memory so he doesn’t remember you ever being there and I take him to the Aurors - tell them I had a hunch or something. If we do this right, the Ministry won’t be able to deny you-know-who’s return any longer - we can blow this whole thing wide open!” 

 

They began scanning for anti-intruder jinxes on the entrance and down in the tunnel, but there was nothing. Tonks felt exulted. After all those pointless missions, she could finally achieve something. And with Remus by her side to boot. 

 

“Why would they not make it better protected?” Said Remus, still looking conflicted. 

 

“Because they underestimate us” Tonks said, quickly. “They always have. They don’t know the Order’s got Aurors on its side or that we’ve been watching their key players for months”

 

“That’s true. But it feels risky” 

 

“Obviously it’s risky, but so is delaying! We don’t know what they might do with this tunnel or when” 

 

“If any Death Eaters come, I need us to agree that we’ll apparate straight back out again” Said Remus. “We’re on their turf down there and I don’t fancy our chances if we get outnumbered in a tunnel”

 

“Deal!” Said Tonks. “Right, I’ll dive down now. Green sparks, it’s safe and you can come and join me. Red sparks, get me the fuck out of there”

 

She shuffled towards the hole feet-first, but Remus put out an arm to stop her. 

 

“Out of the question” He said, a new sternness in his voice.

 

“You what?” 

 

“The only person who should be going down there first is me. Send a patronus to Moody. I’ll make sure it’s safe. If it’s not…well…tell Sirius to send you some help”

 

“There isn’t anyone else around, you said so yourself. Also, if you get into trouble down there, I’m jumping right in after you - not begging Sirius for help. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m going first” 

 

She hated the childishness that had crept into her tone, but Remus’ protectiveness rankled her. She was an Auror in peak condition, trained for these situations: she didn’t need looking after.

 

“I’m not letting you go down there alone” Said Remus, placing his feet over the edge of the hole. “Please. Wait for my signal”

 

Tonks rolled her eyes. “For flip’s sake, don’t be such a noble prat!”

 

Remus pushed off the rim of the gap with his hands and Tonks, without thinking, grabbed his shoulders to pull him back. She regretted it immediately as she felt a jerk and was sucked down along with him, head-first. They streamed vertically downwards at an eye-watering speed, barrelling past the many layers below London, surrounded by nothing but a blur of black earth. Tonks’ stomach felt as if it had lurched into her throat when they came to an abrupt stop a few centimetres above the ground. Then she crumpled onto the slightly damp ground, landing on her head. Remus, who had landed only a little unsteadily on his feet, helped her up. They didn’t look at each other, half out of embarrassment, half out of extreme caution: their eyes scanned the dark space they found themselves in, wands pointed and ready.

 

“You don’t have to be so stubborn you know” She whispered.

 

Remus’ jaw clenched in annoyance but he said nothing. He was staring, transfixed, at their surroundings. When Tonks’ eyes adjusted to the gloom, her mouth fell open too. They were standing in a perfectly round tunnel. It looked as if a glass tube had been thrust right through the ground beneath the city. It was broad enough for four people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and reached to half a metre above Remus’ head. The walls were lined with small torches in cornices, which flickered, their light falling on pipes that were perfectly sliced through by the tunnel but continued intact on the other side as if nothing had interrupted them. 

 

“Bloody Nora” Tonks murmured. 

 

“I dread to think what this means but…well…it’s quite spectacular” Said Remus, barely moving his lips. 

 

Tonks nodded and they started to walk slowly forward, casting silencing spells on their feet. There was a rumbling and a London underground train passed directly beneath them. Though its roof was sliced away by the base of the tunnel, the passengers remained oblivious, reading their newspapers on the fabric seats, the light of the carriages lighting up Remus and Tonks until it passed through. They kept walking. Tonks glanced upwards and what she saw gave her a start. Staring down with eyeless sockets, were skulls. 

 

“What the bleeding hell is that?” She muttered, gently elbowing Remus. 

 

He looked up, a brief flicker of alarm on his face.

 

“It must be a plague pit” He said softly, his features relaxing slightly. “Muggle bodies from hundreds of years ago”

 

It was a perfect cross-section of a mass grave, the brown-dusted bones lit by the orange flames in the tunnel. Tonks shivered. It was eery. The air was close and musty. Every step took them closer to the Ministry and she wondered whether the tunnel was complete and what they would find at its end. Finally, they heard scuffling movements somewhere in the distance. Gradually, the shape of Johnstone could be seen. His back was to them and he was pouring over a set of blueprints, muttering, his wand held aloft casting purple light over the wall of mud before him. 

 

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

 

Tonks easily disarmed him, snatching his wand up in her hand. He turned around, his back to the wall, terrified, but just as quickly she had him pinned against it - paralysed from the neck down. As Tonks approached the quivering man, Remus turned and pointed his wand away at the gloom, covering them. 

 

“Sooooo, Lucius Malfoy gives you a few sacks of gold and you help the Death Eaters burrow underground towards the Department of Mysteries” Said Tonks, her head slightly cocked and her wand pointed at Johnstone’s chest. “Am I wrong?”

 

“They’ll kill me if I tell you!” He choked out. “And they’ll kill you too if they find you here! Please… _please_ … let me go”

 

“Fat chance of that I’m afraid, you’ve been caught in the service of you-know-who” 

 

“No! No!” His eyes rolled from Tonks, to Remus’ back, to the tunnel all around them. “It’s not like that, I swear! I swear…I…it’s…” 

 

Tonks raised an eyebrow, but it seemed no excuse was forthcoming.

 

 “Who are you?” He asked instead, his eyes filling with tears of shock. 

 

“Someone who - unluckily for you mate - ” 

 

Tonks rummaged through the Auror equipment in her robe and drew out her anti-magical wrist clamps. 

 

“ - has the power to put you in Azkaban” 

 

“No!” 

 

The scream, which was half a sob, echoed around the tunnel as Tonks finished with the restraints.

 

“Someone’s coming. We need to leave. Now” Said Remus suddenly, his voice low and urgent.

 

He backed towards her, hand groping for her wrist, but a second later they were both forced to dive to the ground as two jets of red light came hurtling out of the deep darkness of the tunnel they’d just come through. The semi-paralysed, wrist-bound Johnson wobbled and fell, the stunning spells missing him by a fraction. The three of them sprawled on the tunnel floor and Tonks seized her prisoner’s arm just as Remus’ arms wrapped tightly around her middle. The whirling sensation of apparition began and Tonks felt the usual rotating tug at her body, but it faded almost as soon as it had begun. No matter how much Tonks focused on a safe destination, they didn’t move. She realized, with sickening dread, that they must be so close to the Ministry that the anti-apparition zone was interfering with them. That or - even worse - the Death Eaters had succeeded in casting an anti-apparition jinx across the whole tunnel. If so, whoever had done it was powerful - far more powerful than the squirming, whimpering prisoner by her side. Remus swore with uncharacteristic viciousness and Tonks groaned but, disentangling themselves, they sprang swiftly to their feet, wands up and ready. In the flickering light, the outline of two approaching figures began to sharpen, their features started to become illuminated. The first had a pale, long-chinned face, his wand pointed at Remus. The other was cackling, showing cracked teeth between red lips, her wand twirling but its point never leaving Tonks’ chest.

 

“Two lost little mice down a hole. We like a little bit of sport, don’t we Antonin? What shall we do with them?”

 

She had Tonks’ mother’s eyes: heavily-lidded and dark, except they were sunken in their sockets, glittering horribly. She had the same defined jawline as her mother too, but even sharper, and her head was shrouded in a mass of matted dark curls. The smile was familiar as well, but twisted, almost inhuman. Tonks ground her teeth together to prevent herself shouting out. Adrenaline was like fire in her veins, but her grip on her wand was steady. Beside her, Remus stood tall. 

 

They were going to have to fight their way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for the wait everyone! I’ve had a very intense December. I hope you enjoyed this chapter - stay tuned for Part 2!
> 
> Happy holidays, T xxx


	14. Monsters, Part 2

**Chapter 13: Monsters, Part 2**

 

_Get Tonks to safety._

 

It was all Remus was able to think. The words fell over themselves in his brain, swirling and repeating, accelerating with the passing of each tense second. He was entreating himself, begging himself to think of something, _anything_ , that would deliver Tonks above ground: alive, unhurt and as far away as possible from the dark tunnel in which they stood in a hostile, square formation of four raised wands. 

 

“Ah” Bellatrix said, with a slow satisfaction that raised the hairs on Remus’ arms in disquiet. “It’s Dumbledore’s pet half breed, isn’t it?”

 

Remus looked back at her, his eyes hard and his face unmoving. Bellatrix was still baring her teeth in an unwavering, sickening smile, but her eyes as she looked him up and down were pure unfiltered disgust. 

 

“Our little rat has told us all about you” She said. 

 

“Werewolf scum” Dolohov muttered; his voice a monotone rumble. 

 

At this, angry sparks fizzled from Tonks’ wand and the two Death Eaters twitched, alert as foxes. Remus forced himself not to look at Tonks. He knew Bellatrix and Dolohov were waiting for the slightest sign of weakness before they attacked and that they were only too happy to antagonise their foes until they got it. He willed Tonks not to rise to their taunts; to keep the attention on him for as long as possible. But Bellatrix’s black eyes were now swivelling to land on her. The hungry look in them made Remus feel sick to his stomach. The Auror torturer. Had Bellatrix worn that very same expression before ripping the consciousness out of Frank and Alice?

 

“Didn’t like that did you?” Said Bellatrix, one eyebrow raised in enjoyment. “What shall we call you? What stain are _you_ carrying? Mudblood? Muggle lover? Blood traitor?”

 

_Don’t you touch her, don’t you dare touch her._

 

“Thing is, I’m not a bonkers Death Eater psycho like you so I don’t see them as stains. Badges of honour, more like”

 

Bellatrix gave an odd affronted cackle, her face contorted in humourless mirth. Dolohov’s expression did not change: his pallid face was like a mask. Now that Remus looked closer, he could see how Azkaban had weakened them: their black robes, though luxurious and expensive-looking, were hanging off them; their wrists where they emerged from the sleeves were bony as twigs; they had the same wasted, empty look that Sirius had possessed that night in the Shrieking Shack. They were still recovering. Buoyed by faint hope, Remus began running through duelling strategies; analysing which of them was the stronger; plotting ways to get Tonks on the right side to run for the exit. 

 

“This one wants to play, Antonin” Said Bellatrix, her long fingers twisting around her wand as it pointed at Tonks’ chest.  

 

“If that’s what jinxing you into the mud and screwing up your plan to tunnel into the Ministry is called then, yeah, I want to play” 

 

Tonks’ bolshiness only made Bellatrix look more delighted; even more like a cat revelling in the tossing of a mouse between its paws before crushing its spine. Then Remus remembered. Black. Tonks had morphed her eyes _black_. And her voice - her entire way of speaking - were far younger than her morphed appearance implied. Get her to safety, he thought furiously. If Tonks were captured and her true identity discovered, they would use her to send a message to the Order - and to her parents. Remus knew with crystal clarity that he would lay down his life before he let that happen. He would kill before he let that happen. 

 

“Fool” Came the soft voice of Dolohov. “We know how to break your kind” 

 

“Yeah, we’re not scared of you” Tonks was continuing. “Your plan’s failed and we’ve got your man” 

 

“Hm” Bellatrix said, pouting with faux disappointment. “He’s rather outlived his usefulness actually.  _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

 

A jet of green light shot through the narrow space between Remus and Tonks. Remus felt his robes ripple as it passed by, as fast as a blink. There was not even enough time for Johnstone to scream, only the soft thud as he went limp on the damp earth behind them. Tonks gave a yell of rage and her wand slashed the air, sending golden flames of rope shooting towards Bellatrix and Dolohov. They parried them easily, the rope exploding into tiny fragments, and then all four of them were duelling: stunning spells bouncing off the tunnel walls, each of them ducking and diving, trying to find a crack, an instant of distraction with which to take their opponent down. Through the chaos, Remus registered one crucial fact: the Death Eaters weren’t using killing curses, their goal was to capture. What Bellatrix and Dolohov sent instead were stunners that moved in corkscrews; paralysing jinxes that took the shape of snakes at their feet; spells that produced clouds of gas that Remus knew caused intense dizziness if not dispelled. But Remus and Tonks had an arsenal of their own: bright, dazzling fire that burnt and disorientated; a wave that suspended opponents in water; animal transfiguration that momentarily reduced the target to creature form. But the pairs’ speeds were equally matched: if ever one jinx hit its mark they were instantly freed by their partner and for every powerful, clever or insidious charm sent one way there was a powerful, clever or insidious countercharm to meet it halfway. It was a blinding, maelstrom of a stalemate. Then Tonks grabbed Remus’ wand hand. 

 

“Together! Shield!” She shouted. 

 

_“PROTEGO!”_

 

They spoke it together: a shield charm of double thickness, shaped to the tunnel between them and the Death Eaters. Only then did Remus realize how little breath he had left in his lungs. He and Tonks panted, their faces lit by the rippling blue light of the shield. Behind it, Dolohov and Bellatrix stalked back and forth; panting with effort too, their wasted bodies looking angular and hunched. Remus and Tonks were still stuck in the same dead end: nothing but themselves, compacted earth and the lifeless body of Johnstone. A cage. 

 

“We’ve got to get past somehow” Said Remus into Tonks’ ear. “Let me distract them and - ”

 

“They’ll capture you for sure if you do that! No, I’ve…I’ve got a plan, I think. We can use the shield charm’s energy to - ”

 

“You can’t hide forever, little mice!” 

 

Dolohov and Bellatrix were exchanging looks: hers an expression of glee, his of dreadful calm. Then came the cruciatus curses. Unblockable, they came shooting through the shield like arrows. Remus and Tonks began dodging wildly to the soundtrack of Bellatrix’s shrieking laugher at the sport. Remus knew they weren’t going to be able to evade them for long and, sure enough, distracted by pushing Tonks out of the way of a double blast heading towards her, he was hit. It wasn’t the first time he had been hit with _crucio_ but it had been a very long time. The pain was like transformation and his brain felt like it was splitting open: the wolf trying, in vain, to get out; his body shaking and writhing on the floor; his instincts confused and panicked. But he was extraordinarily accustomed to pain and, though his nerve endings were on fire, he regained a shred of his piece of mind: he stopped screaming and kept a tight hold on his wand, trying to think what to do. Then he heard from somewhere above him Tonks shouting, a noise like the crack of a whip and a suck of air - quickly followed by a flash so bright that Remus saw it even through his tightly shut eyelids. The pain disappeared and immediately Tonks was tugging at him, dragging him to his feet. He could see Bellatrix sprawled on the ground, but Dolohov was getting shakily up, his mouth moving and wand swirling in complicated motions. Remus hurled a ball of blue flame from his hands at Dolohov who slammed backwards against the tunnel wall, engulfed.

 

Remus and Tonks started to sprint, hopping over the feebly stirring form of Bellatrix, streaming back the way they had come through the tunnel, no longer cornered. Remus ran, his mind focused on the goal of getting back above ground with an unscathed Tonks to alert the Order about the tunnel. But as soon as hope sprung, it died. When Remus glanced to the side, where Tonks had been running beside him only seconds earlier, she was gone. He stopped in his tracks and span around. Tonks was no longer retreating: he could see her silhouette twenty metres away and her wand was drawn. With horror, he realised that Bellatrix was back on her feet. Remus hurried back, trying, and failing, to get a safe aim on Bellatrix around Tonks’ erratic movements across the tunnel width. Now Remus realised what she was trying to do: her spells were not merely defensive, they were spells of entrapment. She wanted to arrest Bellatrix. But weak as she was, Bellatrix still possessed all the crazed energy that made her infamous. And how long would it be before she tired of capture rather than kill? At any moment, the Death Eaters could press the Dark Mark and, if that happened, he and Tonks would be outnumbered, captured and the Order would be down two fighters and entirely oblivious that the security of the Hall of Prophecies had been ruptured from below.

 

“We have to retreat!” 

 

Remus managed to yell to Tonks as something hot whizzed past his ear. But she didn’t hear him, preoccupied with casting back a wall of what looked like razor sharp shards of glass. Then Remus heard it:

 

_“Av - ”_

 

He acted on impulse. Aiming his wand at the tunnel ceiling, he shouted -

 

_“Confringo!”_

 

Rocks, earth and piping fell in a waterfall-like flurry from the hole Remus blasted in the roof coming down onto the Death Eaters. Tonks’ head snapped to look at him, her mouth open in surprise, but the compromised tunnel around them began to quake and shudder where they stood and she didn’t argue. They began to run again. Tonks aimed her wand at their legs and he felt his own start working at a painful, immense speed. They were covering swathes of ground and, though he couldn’t quite keep pace with her, hope began to flower inside him again. They were nearly there. Tonks was nearly safe. Just a little bit further. 

 

A distant crash from behind them caused Remus to look over his shoulder. Bellatrix and Dolohov were cutting through the rubble; he could see the sparks of their wands as they fought to free themselves. Remus mouthed the first syllable of a shield charm ahead towards Tonks, but before he could finish, tight bonds squeezed his wrists and ankles and he pitched forwards, smacking the damp ground. Tonks hadn’t realised, she was too far ahead: twisting his head painfully to look up, Remus saw her - her fleeing ankles lit momentarily by the light of a passing tube train - she was almost out. He wriggled against the ties, refusing to give up, forcing himself along the tunnel floor. He could see his wand lying inches away from his face, if he could strain his neck enough he could - 

 

But another _crucio_ hit him. The agony was immediate. His body became stiff as a board. The pain pushed out all thoughts of what would happen next. All he could do was try to focus on the thought, the one remaining kernel of comfort he had that, whatever happened to him, Tonks was going to live. He tried to conjure her face in his head, needing her with him in his imagination and then, as if in a dream, a face came to him, looming out of the distant darkness. But it wasn’t Tonks’ true face - this one had ruddy cheeks, shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, a long nose, crows feet, a scar on her lip, black eyes - and it was anguished with fear, the mouth a round O. It was her. The real her. She was coming back for him. 

 

“No!”

 

Through the pain, his words were strangled wails.

 

“Leave me! Get out!”

 

She had no chance of surviving this. Dolohov - even he was chuckling now - and Bellatrix had reached Remus’ feet and they were sending killing curses towards Tonks. They had Remus, the one they recognised - surely misguidedly believing that he would be of most value to Dumbledore - and they were giddy with the opportunity to have some fun disposing of the other. Tonks was dodging the spells, her speed-charmed legs helping her, but the green shoots of light kept coming. 

 

“No! No!”

 

They had lifted his torture in favour of target practice, but Remus’ pain was now worse. He screamed for her to go back. She wasn’t agile enough, she was clumsy; flailing herself at the walls to avoid the death curses, half-tripping and then…she was down. He didn’t even see the jet that hit her, but Tonks was down. Her body flopped onto the floor of the tunnel, coming to rest close to his own, face down in the earth. In the time it took for ten single racing heartbeats to pound in Remus’ pain-wracked chest, an eruption of grief, disbelief and the craving, the deliberation, the need to hurl himself into oblivion after her overwhelmed him. But, just as the Death Eaters were crowing in triumph, a wand shot out from the crumpled pile of filthy robes that held Tonks’ body and two stunning spells were released in quick succession. Remus reached his own wand with his teeth and undid the bounds around his hands and ankles. He could feel the tunnel continue to shake, the sounds of falling dirt growing louder. He staggered up and Tonks was pulling at him with urgent fingers (“It was just a feint, I’m okay, I’m okay”). Where he had been lying, bones now began to crash down from the tunnel roof: filthy brown skulls, ribs, femurs of Londoners who long ago had died in agony. They reached the portal back up to the surface, mud raining down on them. Remus cast one last look, through the debris falling like rain, towards where the pile clogging the tunnel was lit suddenly by another passing train; the wet earth was stirring, a single pale arm emerging, a finger tip that reached for a tattooed forearm…

 

“Jump!” 

 

They did, magically boosted by a bouncing charm, hurtling up and out into a breathtakingly cold night. Their bodies toppled forward but, before they could collide with the trees, they apparated together as if one body, not needing to agree on a destination. After the familiar constricting squeeze they materialized on the top step of Grimmauld Place. In an instant, they fell through the front door and Remus slammed it behind them. Apparition had caused a strange tangle of their clothes and, when Tonks took one step forward and her boot wedged itself beneath the heavy doormat, she toppled forward, arms wheeling (unsuccessfully) for balance. Remus, instincts still edgy from the fight, cast an instinctual _silencio_ as he clattered down with her onto the hallway floor.

 

Grimmauld Place. They’d made it. It was the same familiar smell of musty smoke, whisky and mould. It was the same peeling wallpaper that he eased himself up into sitting to lean back against, one leg stretched out and one bent, breathing heavily, his robes filthy. It was the same dark carpet on which Tonks lay on her back with a heaving chest and her arms above her head, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Tonks, are you alright?” Remus rasped. 

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine” She sat up dazedly, before seizing the hem of his robes, her eyes wide. “But what about you? Are you okay? You took the cruciatus curse, _twice_ , oh fuck Remus I'm so sorry, I didn’t realise they’d got you until I looked back”

 

Remus stood up shakily, using the wall for support. He was exhausted and bruised but there was a strange, empty, creeping feeling stealing over him that was far worse than any physical discomfort.  

“We need to send a message to Dumbledore” He said flatly. “I’ll cast a patronus”

 

He couldn’t look at Tonks. If he did, he knew he would see again the limpness of her body as it hit the ground dead; the sight of her hair mingling with the dirt. Tonks scrambled up to her feet at his words. 

 

“Yeah…yeah…good thinking, uh, I’ll get Mad Eye on the floo” She said, hurrying off to the library, treading dark mud across the carpet.

 

Remus took a minute to steady himself and raised his wand. He whispered the words, trying to hold the happy memory in his mind: embracing Sirius on the threshold of his cottage in Yorkshire, reunited again at long last. But the corporeal shape, best for messaging, did not come. He kept trying, resisting another memory that rose unbidden in the back of his mind. But it burst forward anyway - the memory of a touch, a whisper _“There are sparks in your hair”_ \- and it worked just as, hating himself, he knew it would. The silver shape bounded off for Dumbledore, bearing its message, but Remus looked away just before it emerged from his wand, only seeing its light from the very corner of his eye: he didn’t want to see the hated shape of the wolf. In the library, Tonks was speaking a mile-a-minute to Mad Eye’s head in the fireplace. She’d morphed back to her usual pink-haired appearance and this, with its alarming similarity to the memory he was still trying to squash, made him stop in his tracks. He watched them speaking, but felt powerless to join them. He stood apart, struggling with his shame and with the unnerving, hollow feeling that was continuing to grow. What was wrong with him?

 

“…she just _killed_ him, the cold-hearted bitch….whatever he deserved, he didn’t deserve that…and he was my prisoner, I was responsible for him, I should have - ”

 

“Bellatrix did the deed, not you” Growled Mad Eye. “It wasn’t your fault. Anyone who makes a deal with the Death Eaters should expect a grisly end one way or another”  
 

This made Remus flashback to the green light that had shot from Bellatrix’s wand and through the gap between he and Tonks to kill their prisoner - the same force of hate that had nearly extinguished her life too as he had watched helplessly. He was no longer listening to the conversation at the fireplace. He barely registered when his own name was called. 

 

“Remus? _Remus!_ He wants to talk to you as well!”

 

Tonks was beckoning him over. He went to the hearth slowly, as if through water, and sank to his knees in front of the fire. He answered the questions from Mad-Eye automatically; suggesting next steps, nodding along to plans for the remains of the tunnel to be ‘discovered’ officially, with no trace of the Order of the Phoenix. As they spoke, Mad Eye barked at his miniature portrait to contact Kingsley who was still in the strategy room of the Ministry. Once all was in hand, Remus stood up, not able to stand talking any longer, and began to pace the room. Tonks was recapping the evening again, almost feverishly, and Remus didn’t want to listen. How could she be so cavalier about her own precious life?

 

“…then Remus brings down the whole bloody ceiling…”

 

_Dead. She had almost been dead._

 

“…I used that bouncing charm we used to do in training, you remember….?”

 

He must not have noticed when Mad Eye took his leave and the grizzled head disappeared from fireplace because when he next looked back, Tonks was perched on the faded velvet sofa. She was pulling off her robes - covered as they were with ancient bone dust, mud and damp - and throwing them in a heap on the floor. She sat in her black thermal layers, stretching out her arms and back muscles, wincing a little. Remus shuffled off his own robe too with distaste - the smell of the dirt on it reminded him too vividly of the tunnel. He forced himself to hang it neatly on the back of a chair before immediately resuming his compulsive walking, now dressed only in his tattered jumper and trousers. He tried not to glance at Tonks, but he couldn’t help it. She was pulling off her mud encrusted boots to reveal woollen, badger-decorated socks, which she massaged with her fingers. She looked up at him and gave her best cheerful smile through her obvious exhaustion.

 

“Hey, you’re gonna wear out the carpet like that” She shuffled up and patted the spot beside her. “Come and sit down. We’re both knackered. In shock a little bit too, probably”

 

He couldn’t respond to her gentle concern. Barely a centimetre lay in the difference between her being dead - her life snuffed out with the same merciless brutality as Lily and James’ had been - and her sitting right there on the sofa in her yellow Hufflepuff socks.

 

“Okay, let’s put the kettle on” She forced herself stiffly up. “And I’ll see if I can find you some chocolate”

 

“Thank you, but I don’t want anything”

 

“Remus Lupin says no to tea and chocolate? Now I’m really worried” 

 

She sat back again, her eyes following his progress across the room, her attempt at a teasing smile dying on her face when it wasn’t returned.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” She asked slowly.

 

When he didn’t respond, she stood and took his arm, halting his pacing. Her tone was low and soft. 

 

“Hey…talk to me”

 

Remus turned to her.

 

“Do you have any idea how reckless you were tonight?”

 

Her face froze. She let go of his arm.

 

“Er...” She started uncertainly. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you when you were going down into the tunnel. It was stupid. It meant we couldn’t tell anyone where we were. But look - and I’m not trying to make excuses or anything - but Merlin knows I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks. I guess my decision making faculties were a bit…flubby”

 

“I’m not talking about that”

 

“Alright, well, okay” Tonks folded her arms, puffing out her cheeks. “I get that you didn’t want me to try and capture Bellatrix, but Remus I had to _try_. It’s my duty as an Auror - ”

 

“That was foolhardy to the extreme, but that’s not what I’m talking about either”

 

It was taking all his strength to keep his voice from shaking. There was a crease between Tonks’ eyebrows. 

 

“Then -“ 

 

“You shouldn’t have gone back for me. You should have got yourself out of there when you had the chance” 

 

Tonks face slackened in surprise.

 

“You’re joking right? You were being tortured!”

 

“Do I look like I’m joking Tonks? You nearly got yourself killed”

 

“The key word there is _nearly_. As you can see, I’m very much un-killed”

 

“You put yourself in unacceptable danger” Remus replied, his voice rising against his will as he tried to keep his breathing under control. “You had the opportunity to escape, but you came back. Your chances of survival were slim to none - you were directly in the line of fire, Bellatrix must have shot dozens of killing curses at you - what were you thinking?”

 

“I wasn’t exactly thinking - I was concentrating on getting you out of there! When I realised that you’d been hit…” Tonks swallowed and hugged her arms around herself. “It was horrible…the worst fucking moment of my whole life. I had to go back. I’d never have left you”

 

Her words were like a punch to the stomach. Though her chin was raised and defiant, there was a vulnerability in her eyes that he’d never seen before. But he had to make her understand. 

 

“It was a dangerously foolish thing to do”

 

“What exactly are you saying?” She snapped, breaking her arms apart, the vulnerable look vanishing. “That you’d rather be being captured and tortured by the Death Eaters right now than be here - ?”

 

“Of course that’s not what I’m saying - ”

 

“ - cause that’s what would be happening if I hadn’t gone back!”

 

“- I’d rather be captured and tortured by the Death Eaters than you be murdered in an attempt to rescue me”

 

Tonks threw her hands up into the air.

 

“But I didn’t get murdered!” She shouted “You’re not making any sense!”

 

Remus didn’t have the space in his brain to consider whether or not this was true: the explosive shock of grief when he thought he had lost her felt too near. It was surreal: he’d been living in intense fear of her rejection, her disgust, yet now he was deliberately antagonising her. But he couldn’t help it, there was no other way. She had to know that her life was too important to throw away for his sake. Her life was more important than anything. 

 

“I did what I had to do to get us both out of there alive. I’d call that a win, wouldn’t you?” She continued. 

 

“You were lucky” He said, shortly. 

 

Her eyes flashed.

 

“You’re being pretty fucking patronising, you know”

 

“Your priority should have been getting yourself out of there in one piece”

 

Tonks’ mouth fell open. 

 

“I am an Auror and a Member of the Order of the Phoenix. My priority is ‘to fight the cause at mortal risk of my own life’ - not ‘run away as soon as things get sticky’; not ‘leave my friends for dead’! You were there when I made that promise, remember? We were standing right here in this room!”

 

In some distant part of his mind, Remus knew she was right. But he couldn’t retract what he had said; couldn’t concede anything that might lead her to make the same fatal decision again. 

 

“You shouldn’t risk death just to get me out of trouble”

 

“You know” Tonks said, heatedly. “Most people would be happy - _grateful_ even - if someone saved their life! Yeah, the killing curses missed by like an inch, but what matters is that they missed. Merlin knows I’m not a perfect Auror, or a perfect Order Member, but we still scuppered the Death Eater plans tonight and lived to tell the tale. I’m not going to apologise for that!” 

 

“I’m not asking you to apologise”

 

“Then what?” She slapped her hands to her forehead in frustration. “We’re chasing our tails here!” 

 

She was right, they were going round in circles but that was just how Remus felt: dizzy with reliving what had almost happened. Even the fact that they were standing in the safe and familiar library felt unreliable as if, at any second, they could be back down in the tunnel - the whole escape a dream - and he would be watching powerlessly as Tonks turned to run back towards certain death. He wanted to hold her, desperately. He wanted to feel the solidity of her living body, breathing in his arms, and to tell her that he was sorry, that he was so terrified of losing her he felt it could turn him mad. The urge was so strong that he stepped back to put more distance between them, not trusting himself. As he moved to the other side of the Persian rug, he saw the hurt in her eyes and tried to ignore it.

 

“Promise me that you won’t you do anything like that ever again”

 

“I thought you knew me better than to ask me something as bloody ridiculous as that” She said, coldly. 

 

There was a heavy silence again, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire. The urge to take her in his arms was growing unbearably. He looked down at the floor, but still he felt Tonks’ gaze as if it could pierce his very skin. 

 

“There’s something I want to know” She said suddenly.  “Would you ever ask anyone else in the Order to make you that promise? I mean, yeah, you don’t want any of them to risk their lives for you either, but what I mean is…would you ever make Kingsley promise you something that could go against the vows he made? Or Hestia? Or Mad Eye? Would you ever make _Mad Eye_ promise you something that would take away his free will in a battle situation?”

 

“I - I don’t know how to answer that question” Remus stuttered, realising the trap he’d led himself into.

 

“Try”

 

“I can’t”

 

“Then I’ll help you. I think the answer is no”

 

Tonks took a step towards him.

 

“I’m right, aren’t I? And that begs another question - what makes me so different from the others?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

 

It came out colder than he had intended. Pain flickered in Tonks’ face again and the next step she took was more nervous than the first, but still she drew nearer.

 

“I think you do”

 

He shook his head. “Tonks. Stop”

 

“Stop what?” 

 

It was a good question. Stop taking a pickaxe to the walls of his denial? Stop making his heart beat out of his ribcage? Stop moving ever closer towards him? It was impossible to answer. He needed to leave the room. He needed to apologise to her and flee before he lost control. But he didn't want to. He didn’t want to do anything that took her out of his sight. He didn’t want to ever lose her again - like he thought he had in that asphyxiating, world-crumbling moment when she crashed to the ground before his very eyes.

 

“Would you please just talk to me properly?” She cried. “I’m sick of the dodging and the denials and the bloody evasion! Why are you being like this?” 

 

“Because they killed you!” 

 

He was shocked by the sound of his own voice as it exploded from him. 

 

“You died in front of me - you died _for me!_ How could I live, Tonks? How could I go on?”

 

“I didn’t die! Remus, I’m right here” She clasped her hands and thumped them on her sternum. “I’m alive! I’m alive!”

 

She crossed the rug, seized his hand and held it to her neck. 

 

“I’m alive! See? You feel that?”

 

And he could. Her pulse was there, beating rapidly beneath the warm skin of her throat. His palm lay against her neck and the tips of his fingers were nestled in her soft hair. Her hold on his wrist was gentle, he could pull away - he knew he _should_ pull away - but he didn’t. Instead, his thumb moved, softly stroking the line of her jaw. Tonks’ eyes were glassy and the clearest, darkest blue. He had looked into those eyes before and here he was looking into them again. He felt her heartbeat quicken. His hand moved further back, his fingers moving to the nape of her neck, deeper into the bright shock of hair. Tonks closed her eyes at his touch, her breathing skipping a little. He could see the tiniest freckles on the bridge of her nose, the neat fluorescent curves of her eyebrows, the bow of her lips. He rested his forehead against hers, as if an invisible string had pulled him there. Tonks made a tiny, almost inaudible gasp.

 

“There” She said, her whisper containing both serenity and relief. “The truth. Not so difficult in the end” 

 

Then she buried her face in his shoulder and his arms fastened around her in a tight hug. In their embrace, it was as if all the terror and all the pain of the evening dissolved; leaving just the two of them, clinging to each other. Remus closed his eyes. Tonks’ hair smelt of rain. He felt himself slipping away, his reserve in its final death flails. 

 

“But it is difficult” He whispered. “It is difficult” 

 

“But if I want this…and you want this…” 

 

Her lips touched his cheek as she spoke, his arms tightened around her involuntarily. 

 

“Things can be simple. They can”

 

She tipped her neck back to look up at him and her face was glowing. She was radiant. Remus’ heart felt so full that he could barely breathe. Nothing made sense. He stroked her cheek and she smiled more widely. He felt hot. Her body was so close to his that even through her winter layers he could feel its shape. The blood was leaving his brain; he could barely think. He tried to remember how he had felt as he sat on Sirius’ bedroom floor. He had been so certain then, with no doubt in his mind that she would regret what had happened and her rejection, though excruciating, would at least make things simple; make things logical. He would ask her forgiveness. He would be alone. But everything had been blown out of the water by the bold, mercurial statement she made whilst perched on her broom amongst the clouds - _“It was a bloody brilliant kiss and you know it”,_. He had prepared himself - albeit dreadfully - for disgust, but he wasn’t prepared for this. He had no defence, no way of resisting a Tonks who _did_ want to kiss him. He craved an even greater closeness with her so much it terrified him. But how could the purity of her thinking, her desire to push aside complexity, stand up to the reality of what he was?  

 

“Tonks, it is so much more complicated than that” 

 

It was all he was able to manage, but even as he said it, his hands were moving over her back and his lips brushed her hair.

 

“You can trust me” She said, breathily, fingers clasping the edges of his jumper. “You can trust yourself”

 

“How can you possibly know that, Tonks?”

 

“I just know” She said, with a fierce look and a smile like kindling. “I’m stubborn like that”

 

Their faces were close now. Tonks’ hands were on his chest. She was waiting for him, he knew. And all the selves that made him up - respectable Order member, outcast, man of flesh and blood, beast - were all united in wanting the very same thing. He was on the cusp of tipping past a point of no return but his conscience railed at him; panic punctuating the storm of lust. 

 

“I’m sorry, I - I don’t understand, Tonks…how can…how is it possible…?” 

 

He stepped backwards, a little unbalanced, breaking their contact. The cold of the room without the warmth of her body was terrible. He ran his hands through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. Then he wrenched his gaze down to look at her straight-on. 

 

 

Everything was contained within those words and it felt like slicing himself open, gutting himself, for her. 

 

“Yeah. I know what you are, Remus Lupin” Her eyes were blazing. “You’re a werewolf”

 

There was nothing but white noise in his brain. It was a frozen, suspended moment that seemed to last an age until she spoke again: her face defiant, beautiful, brave. 

 

“And I want you so badly”

 

It couldn’t be happening, but it was. In two strides across the floor, he had reached her and now was kissing her, hard and hungry, and she was kissing him back with matched fervour. Every thread of his willpower had been cut and now he was telling her, breathily, between the meeting of their lips, that he wanted her too. The warnings in his brain - that he was utterly unworthy, that this was a terrible idea, that this would change everything - were still flashing but growing fainter with every second and, when Tonks pulled his hair, opened his mouth with her own and he felt the soft push of her tongue against his, they left his mind completely. All he knew was her: the flex of her body as it collided into his, the sound of her moans and gasps, the sheer and wondrous intensity of a desire the strength of which he’d never known before. He could feel her pulse again, but this time it was beneath his lips as he kissed her neck. She was alive and so was he. Everything that he’d so carefully trained himself not to feel was hurtling into actuality. His body was on fire but so too were his reservations - his principles blown apart in the same way that Tonks had incinerated his letter in pink flames and thrown it to the wind. As she kissed him, tugged on his hair, pushed his hands up beneath her many layers to the soft skin of her stomach, it was akin to discovering a new way to live, a way he had been denying himself. 

 

She gasped, arching her spine, as his hands moved over her waist. She was as hot as him and he felt a thin sheen of sweat at the small of her back. Beneath his own clothes, he was rigid and straining, sensitive to the pressing, the grinding, of her lower body against him. She broke the kiss and looked at him: her lips slightly swollen, her hair mussed. He stared back at her. He didn’t know what to do next. He was afraid. But he kissed her again and the fear was quelled; he fell once more back into the glorious new world of her. Then with a strength he never could have expected from himself when he was in his right mind, he lifted her; pressed her against the bookcase. Books began to fall from the overcrowded shelves, landing with muffled crunches on the carpet. Remus put his arm up above Tonks’ head before one could collide with it and felt a bruising blow from a sharp spine on his wrist. Tonks’ foot slipped and, as he gripped her more tightly to stop her from falling, more of the cobwebby books tumbled all around them. Tonks giggled and, not for the first time, Remus was winded by the way that she looked. Her eyes were sparkling and exhilarated.

 

Her legs were wrapped around his middle as he pinned her there. Despite the thick clothes, he could feel the warmth between her legs and he knew she could feel his hardness where it pressed against the very same place. He started to feel afraid again. He knew he should speak but conversation felt like the vestige of a previous life; the life before their bodies had met in this way and the lid on the box of his repression been ripped aside. Tonks bit her lip, eyes travelling to the door; behind which lay the corridor and, of course, the stairs. Then she spoke, an edge of nerves to her voice. She barely managed to say two words before he, his mind suddenly clear, empty of consequence, empty of all but the present moment, spoke to assure her: 

 

“D’you - ?”

 

“Yes”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know what you think :)


	15. Extraordinary

**Chapter 14: Extraordinary**

 

Breathless, Tonks was suddenly acutely aware of every part of her own body: her spine where it met the bookcase; her fingers where they tingled at the tips; her thighs where they held his hips in place. Yes. An unequivocal, earnest, sensual _yes_. She kissed him and she could taste the yes in the softness of his lips, feel it in the undeniable stiffness of his desire where it pressed with tantalising urgency between her parted legs. Then he lifted her down so, with only a slight stumble, she was back on her feet. Then he took her hand. 

 

The hallway was dark and the staircase leading upstairs even more so. Tonks, still feeling overly aware of her own awkward limbs, of the strange leg bends required to ascend each step, and distracted by the feel of Remus’ warm hold on her waist, barely made it one flight before she tripped. Her calf collided with the edge of a stair, but he caught her deftly and she surprised him by smothering his gentle _shh_ with another kiss. 

 

Tonks had never been inside Remus Lupin’s bedroom before. It was pitch black until he whispered and orange flames bloomed into cornices in the corners of the walls and topped two thin candles on his desk. She closed the door by leaning back against it. The soft click of the lock thrilled her: they had never been alone quite like this before. 

 

He stood in the centre of the small room and looked at her. His face, bathed in amber candelight, reminded her of the night they met; the meeting of their eyes across the whirl of phoenix fire. The kind, enigmatic grey eyes were the same, but she was aflame in an entirely different way. Remus looked away suddenly, a shyness creeping into his body language as he glanced at their surroundings. She tore her gaze away from him to look around the room too: books, newspapers, ink bottles and quills were neatly arranged on top of a scratched, mahogany desk; the walls were bare but for a few faded, slow-moving photographs; and, directly behind where Remus was standing, was the most inviting double bed Tonks had ever seen. Every object in the room felt dear to her by sheer quality of it belonging to him. 

 

“It’s not much, I’m afraid”

 

“I like it”

 

He smiled and she saw the unease lift from him as if it had been a physical burden he’d acquired since stepping into the bedroom. She reached out her hand, he took it and, with barely a tug, she drew him towards her. He kissed her, slowly. A chill of goosebumps spread down her neck and across her arms, her hair prickling at the roots. Her heart beat like a snare drum. It was almost overwhelming to be kissed by him like this. It was so gloriously, startlingly, new but at the same time it felt so electrifyingly _right_ that it was as if they’d been kissing like this forever and she was only just remembering. She wanted him like she’d had him in her fantasies - immediately, frantically - but the immense scale of the moment and what it meant to her made her head swim. She knew he felt the same: she could feel the desire in him like a bubbling cauldron about to explode, yet his hands trembled, hesitated, his breathing laboured when he reached up beneath her clothes to touch her skin. No lover had ever been so important.

 

She turned them, swivelling them round so that the bed was behind her instead. She took off her thick jumper, hearing a faint crackle of static in her ears. He was breathing hard and his stare was fervid, but he didn’t move a muscle. He only watched her. She did the same with her next layer, dropping it to the floor, leaving just a tight black t-shirt. His gaze made her so very hot. She began peeling the t-shirt off, but it got a little stuck somewhere around her chin. Before she had the wherewithal to blush and ask for it, his hands came to help her. Still there was the uncharacteristic shake, but with a gentleness close to reverence he freed her, careful not to trap her hair as he pulled it over her head. She bit her lip as he looked at her. Her bra was a vivid electric blue. His eyes were darkened by lust, with that intense, unknowable depth that sent her dizzy with desire, but still they retained the ghost of his quiet caution. She pushed her hands up beneath his jumper and slowly he raised his arms, allowing her to remove it, leaving a rumpled grey shirt beneath. She pressed her body hard against his and, her need for him boiling over, she undid his top button.   Then the next button. Remus broke the kiss. Another button. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came. His body seemed tense all of a sudden, unresponsive, and she stopped. His shirt was open to the sternum and she could see silver scars snaking up and over his collarbone and the tips of what she knew must be slashes across his torso. His eyes kept flicking to something over her shoulder. Tonks glanced back. There was a long, faded gilt-framed mirror on the wall beside the bed, reflecting them both.

 

“Don’t look at that” She said, touching his cheek. “Look at me” 

 

She reached back and, fingers struggling for a few moments, unclasped her bra. It fell away, baring her breasts which bounced softly. All the breath seemed to leave Remus’ lungs and his eyes no longer moved from her. He kissed her and their tongues met, she squeezed his hair in her fist and his hands moved slowly, with a quiet rapture, to hold her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples and the delicious whirls of sensation caused Tonks to moan, tipping her head back. He continued to stroke her, whilst his lips moved over her neck and clavicles. Her breathing was erratic now and she felt herself become even wetter, so ready for him it was unbearable. 

 

“I want to feel your skin against mine” She whispered.

 

She kissed his rough cheek. He closed his eyes and began to slowly undo the rest of his buttons. Tonks touched his waist softly, pushing away the open shirt, her eyes locked on his face, ready to stop at any sign of his discomfort, feeling uneven textures beneath her finger tips. When she heard the quiet noise of the shirt landing on the floor, she looked down. Though she had expected it, it still shocked her: the stretched jaw marks, black and ridged, in a vast, uneven circle around his waist. She remembered the smell of metal, the blood-smudged walls of the basement, but she banished the memory: she knew the precise thing he feared was that the sight of his body would make her think of his transformation and it felt wrong, disloyal, to let the thought of it into the room with them. Because there was beauty too: beauty in the webs of silvery-white scars, beauty in the secret strength of his tall, slim, sinewy body, beauty in the difference between their two bodies. The network of old wounds, like a map across his body, betrayed the physical truth of what he was - the proof of the taboo they were breaking - but it didn’t make her want him any less. It only made her appreciate how extraordinary the two of them were. 

 

Their bare skin touched. Remus looked a little like he’d received a blow to the back of the head; dazed, as if he was witnessing some kind of marvel. She bent her head to kiss a raised, new-looking scar on his shoulder; she sat down on the edge of the bed to kiss a strange, faded round scar below his sternum, then kissed - though he flinched in shock a little - the edge of the ruched chasm of teeth marks. She looked up at him, fierce and defiant, one hand at the button of his trousers, daring him to tell her now that she didn’t want him. Remus made a low noise in his throat and suddenly she felt his hands on her waist, lifting her up, throwing her backwards to land in the middle of the smooth sheets of his bed. 

 

Then he was on top of her, his hand slipping beneath the curve of her spine as her back arched, kissing down the centre of her collarbone, wrapping his lips around the point of a nipple, his tongue tracing a circle around it, his other hand at the button of her jeans. He tried to tug them down, but they were tight; even tighter than usual because of the woollen thermals she was wearing underneath. She helped him, attempting to wrench them down until - the seat and seams weakened from hours spent aboard broomsticks - they tore, part coming away in his hand. 

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry” He said quickly. 

 

Remus looked so serious that Tonks had to hold back a laugh of affection. 

 

“It doesn’t matter! They’re ancient” She said, shuffling off the remains and trying to pull him back down towards her.

 

“No, I’m sorry, I can repair them, I’ll just - ” 

 

Tonks clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle an uncontrollable giggle at the sight of him - kneeling up on the bed, shirtless, casting around for his wand - whilst she lay in nothing but fluorescent orange underwear on his bed. 

 

“Stop being such a bloody gentleman! Now is _not_ the time!” 

 

Remus blinked. The dazed look returned to his face as he looked down at her where she lay against his pillows.

 

“Right” He said. 

 

“Luckily for you” She said. “I find laughter to be an aphrodisiac” 

 

He dropped the fabric in his hand. His grey eyes bored into her, made her feel truly naked, so exposed it was almost too intense. No one had ever looked at her like that before. 

 

“You’re so beautiful”

 

Her cheeks flushed with heat. He traced the smooth skin of her legs, from her calves up to the outside of her thigh until he was above her, between her parted legs, his eyes searching her face with an expression that was almost pained. Her legs were wrapped around his legs now and they were moving together; gasping, kissing in a way that made her never want to stop. Though her body was bruised from the tunnel floor, battered by the imprints of curses, aching from weeks of poor sleep, it was coming alive under his touch.

 

Everything became a series of breathtaking firsts. Her underwear was slipped off and it was the first time he touched her: his fingers light, tentative, nervous, with his gasp of shock and pleasure at the slick readiness of her. His trousers were undone, pulled away, and it was the first time she felt the length of him: running her hand up and down it, feeling its smooth weight. She began to stroke and squeeze him, feeling his stifled moan against her mouth, but he gently moved her hand away. He wanted to focus on touching her. For the first time, Tonks felt embarrassment creep in. She had always found it difficult, often impossible, to climax like this. She had so much control over her own body that she found it a challenge to let herself go, to relinquish control to someone else. Remus’ touch was gradual, inquiring and she wanted to tell him not to bother, to explain that it was her fault but…he was studying her, gauging her reactions to every tiny movement of his fingers, and words failed her. The pleasure that had started as a low hum, was now spreading, building as the pattern of his fingers fell into a soft rhythm. Her hand began to squeeze the sheets. She found herself making small, cracked moans of pleasure. This wasn’t normal, but he was making it so easy: he was persuading her body, coaxing it, into increasingly higher levels of feeling. There was something about being touched by him there, in his room, encased in the glorious smell of him…she writhed, twisting on the bed…and the deft pressure of his fingers just worked faster…it was too much, yet at the same time she wanted more - and more came. His careful attention, the enraptured way he watched her, wrested all her control away. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she felt the pulse, the twitch, of the tiny muscles beneath his fingertips; an explosion of pleasure that made her cry out, made a shudder run through her body like she’d been hit by a curse. 

 

She opened her eyes, taking huge breaths, and it was like bursting out of deep water into the sunshine. He was asking her something in a tone of disbelieving uncertainty, but she couldn’t reply: her only answer was to pull him fully on top of her. She couldn’t wait any longer. Her need was like a fever and she reached to touch where he was rock hard, desperate for them to finally come together. But he didn’t move inside her. She opened her eyes and, though his arms still wrapped tightly around her, his hips still encased within the lock of her thighs, his expression had changed: he was blinking, almost confusedly, looking down at her as desire and fear wrestled for dominance on his face.

 

“Wait” He said.

 

Her heart skipped a beat. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“We need to be safe, Tonks. We need to decide how - ”

 

“Oh!” Said Tonks, letting out a breath of relief, her body relaxing, flexing beneath him. “I should have said…I’ve got the full protection charm. We’re all sorted” 

 

“Oh. Well, that’s...”

 

His words were cut off and replaced with an uninterpretable groan because Tonks had stroked her hand down his stomach to grasp his shaft in her warm palm. He kissed her forcefully, but just as quickly broke them apart again. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them. They were still so close, he was barely inches away from being inside her, but he was frozen once more.

 

“Remus…” She said slowly, bringing both hands up to rest lightly on his waist and trying not to let the icy fear that everything was about to shatter into her voice. “What is it?”

 

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” He whispered.

 

It was back. The self-doubt of the letter and its language of guilt, of indiscretions, of blame. It was back and she saw the grip it had over him, like invisible hands holding him in a vice, poised to tear him away from her. He truly looked as if he believed it possible that she might suddenly announce that actually she found him disgusting and wanted nothing more than to leap out of the werewolf’s bed right that second. 

 

“Sure as hell. What about you?”

 

“Yes...yes...Tonks, you…you can’t _imagine_ how much I want you…”

 

But she didn’t need to imagine it. She could feel it. It was there in the way that he kissed her like a drowning man; there in the urgent, undiminishing rigidity that nudged her at entrance. 

 

“But…who I am…” He pulled away out of the kiss, beseeching her. “ _What_ I am…I have to know, I need to know, that you’re sure before we…”

 

Tonks was tired of words. She tightened her knees around his hips, put one hand against his shoulder and tipped him onto his back so he was pinned beneath her, her legs straddling him, her naked body on full view. 

 

“How about I prove it to you?” She said. 

 

His eyes widened a little in disbelief, but the fire in them was back; they traced the curvature of her body as she sat upright above him, as if trying to memorise it. The muscles in his stomach were tensed, anticipation and nervous energy freezing him in place. She took his cock into the juncture between her thighs and lowered herself down onto it. He tipped his head back, a hoarse gasp of pleasure. The same startling pleasure rippled through her too, but she didn’t close her eyes: she wanted to witness his reaction. It was happening; finally she could express herself, she could act on the craving that had dominated her nights ever since their first kiss, and the sensation of him - hard as rock against the deep, wet softness of her walls - was greater than even her yearning fantasies could have hoped for. Her hips rolled back and forward, slowly, as she slid up and down his length. She rode him, squeezing him tight, and he watched her wordlessly, letting her control it. Gradually though, he began to move with her; raising his hips as she came down to push up deeper inside her, massaging her breasts, stroking her nipples and smiling at the sighs elicited.

 

Then, palm up, two fingers moved to find her clitoris. He circled it, more confident than before, and she instantly felt a heady rush overtake her senses, making her breath catch in her throat. Her legs became weaker and she could only grind on him as the feeling intensified; the waves gathered. And then the same thing that had utterly blindsided her the first time was happening again: a shout escaped her lips; she swore; she grabbed a fistful of her hair; her nails dug into the mattress. He watched her come, hungrily, and she knew he could feel the squeeze of her muscles against him, as the pleasure overtook her. Then he pulled her forward, roughly, for a fierce kiss. Whatever boundary had been there before, it must have come crumbling down, because now there was wildness: hesitance thrown to the wind, Remus sat up and their bodies slammed together, his hands squeezed the roundness of her backside, using it to pull her towards him and thrust more deeply, and more quickly, than ever. Tonks held him close and their foreheads rubbed together, the sweat at their hairline mingling. Everything was a blur of fast-moving bodies in the flickering candlelight and the increasing thrum of sensation as he filled every centimetre inside her. 

 

Then it was her turn to be flipped over, her back pressed deeply into the soft duvet. She hooked one leg over his arm and the sheer depth of the penetration made her cry out louder than ever. Her nails dug into his back. The bones of his hips bruised her but she relished the pain: the marks of his passion, his ability, finally, to lose himself. She knew he was close, his body was trembling, there was a quickening deep within her. She whispered to him, voice breaking with pleasure, her encouragement; how he was making her feel, until his hips bucked, the rhythm breaking erratically, and he buried his face in her neck and the pillow behind it, muffling the shuddering breaths he was taking.    

 

Tonks held him, panting, to her and her smile was wide. She opened her eyes and saw the ceiling, without really seeing it. He rolled to the side and enveloped her in his arms, she nuzzled her face in between his collarbones, breathing in his smell. His heart was still pounding, she could feel it against her bare breasts as they lay there. Excitement welled up in her. She was exactly where she wanted to be and she grinned at him giddily: she wanted him to know how she felt, that he didn’t need to worry ever again. But his eyes were closed. He looked peaceful. She let him lie still. After minutes of breathy quiet, his eyes flicked open. They weren’t calm like she thought they would be though: he looked as if he had just been woken up from a deep sleep by a loud noise. 

 

“Are you alright?” He asked her.

 

She nodded vigorously, a mess of pink hair bouncing in her peripheral vision.

 

“I’m fucking brilliant”

 

“You are?”

 

“Yes” She beamed at him. “I’m glowing. Can’t you tell?” 

 

“I don’t quite understand how this can be real” He said. “How can it be that you’re lying here with me...how could all this have happened? It’s…it’s mad. Completely mad”

 

“Nothing wrong with a bit of madness, Moony”

 

He kissed the top of her head suddenly, devoutly. She closed her eyes, savouring the tender press of his lips. When she felt the warm liquid he’d left inside her begin to move, she slipped away to the adjoining bathroom. When she came back, Remus was standing, partly dressed in a faded t-shirt, dark blue boxer shorts, catching a tiny bit of conjured toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. He placed his wand on the bedside table. Seeing him like this - a behind-the-scenes Remus - flipped her stomach with affection. She pulled back the duvet and climbed into his bed. She saw a small, proud smile of surprise on his face when he turned to see her nestled there. She would have rolled her eyes and chided him for thinking there was any chance she’d clear straight off after _that_ , but she was too exhausted. The candles were fading. The tingle in her limbs remained but they were becoming heavier and heavier. The pillow smelt clean and fresh, as soft as a marshmallow. Her eyes closed of their own accord. She felt the mattress compress as he climbed in the other side. 

 

“So knackered” She murmured. 

 

Her body felt as if it could sink through the mattress and down into the centre of the earth. There was a pleasant ache between her legs. Everything was going to be different now. 

 

“Sleep as long as you need to” He said, quiet and minty, from the neighbouring pillow. 

 

Tonks sighed, rolling in the duvet so it wrapped around her more tightly, like a parcel. “I wish I could”

 

Her hand found his somewhere in the warm darkness.

 

“You did once offer me a bed at Grimmauld Place. D’you remember?” She said. “I’m finally taking you up on it”

 

“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind” 

 

Tonks could only smile, too sleepy to make a joke ( _“sure it wasn’t”_ ). 

 

“We’ll talk more in the morning” He said. 

 

“Mm” Tonks mumbled, the questioning lilt to his voice lost on her, subsumed into the dreams that were rising up from the corners of her brain. “S’comfy here”

 

“I’m glad” He said, almost inaudibly.


	16. Toast & Wine

**Chapter 15: Toast & Wine**

 

It felt as if he’d been asleep for months. His dreams were refusing to let him go, clinging on with a strange insistence: _the click of a lock, the press of lips on his waist, the surrender of his body pinned down on the bed_. His eyelids seemed to creak as he blinked them open, dazzled a little by a shaft of bright winter sunlight blaring through a crack in the curtains. When his pupils adjusted, he became aware of something odd lying on the floor of his room. He stared at it: a wrinkled, unfamiliar black sock. 

 

Remus sat bolt upright, so quickly the back of his head scraped the wall above the headboard. He grasped handfuls of sheets, squeezing them unconsciously, and looked down at the side of the bed to his right: the corner of the duvet was thrown back and there was a still-warm imprint of a body on the mattress. Curled on the pillow, scarcely visible but unmistakeable, was a strand of bright pink hair. Hardly breathing, he registered the clothing slung haphazardly around: on the back of a chair, suspended from the door handle and, inexplicably, on top of the wardrobe. The door to his bathroom was slightly ajar. 

 

“Tonks?” Remus whispered, not quite knowing if he dreaded or longed for the reply. 

 

There was a series of unintelligible gurgling noises and Tonks’ tousled head appeared around the side of the door. She gulped down a mouthful of toothpaste.

 

“You’re awake!” 

 

Remus couldn’t reply. As he looked at her emerging from the bathroom, he felt as if his throat had closed up for good. With one hip rested against the doorframe, she wore just her black jeans - inexpertly mended with a jagged patch up the inside of her thigh - and the startlingly electric blue lace bra from the night before, one strap fallen down and resting on her pale upper arm. She transformed the gloomy surroundings; radiant with energy, as if she was the light source and not the gaps in the curtains. She was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. 

 

“I tried to wake you but you were dead to the world. Didn’t have the heart to _enervate_ you”

 

He stared at her, examining every clue in her face, searching for signs of fear, regret, horror, but he found none. Her lips were turned up in a smile. Her eyes twinkled.

 

“You look stupified” She said. 

 

“Er - ” He attempted, breathily. “I think perhaps I’m in shock” 

 

She chuckled. The sound was sweet and musical. She straightened up, her hip leaving the doorframe, and walked the three paces to the bed, kneeling on it and shuffling forward until their heads were level. 

 

“The good kind, I hope” 

 

Then she leaned forward and kissed him as though it was the most normal thing in the world to do. Memory at once collided with tactile reality as he vanished into something which felt like a dream but which had a sensual physicality no dream ever could. His arms encircled her and she leant her weight against him, pushing him down, down, until they were lying together, limbs entwining. Then a terrible tootling noise from the other side of the room made them both jump and break apart a little. 

 

“Ah bollocks!” Said Tonks, scrunching up her face. “It’s my reminder - three minutes ’til i’m due in the Ministry” 

 

“Oh” 

 

It was like the breaking of an enchantment and Remus sat up, as if propelled by a spring, expecting her to roll away instantly too. 

 

“Right. Of course, you should get going”

 

Rationality had come screaming back to him, full of wrath. Remus’ insides twisted with anxiety: thoughts, implications, consequences streamed through his mind, each one moving too fast to be confronted, each one too huge to bear. He turned away from Tonks. He summoned his clothes and, feeling foolish, began to hurriedly pull them on beneath the covers. It was over. She was leaving. 

 

“I expect that Kingsley’s plan to have the tunnel discovered by the Ministry will have come to fruition by now. The Ministry will be in uproar today. I’m awfully sorry, Tonks, I - ” Remus’ fingers stumbled over his buttons, imagining Tonks behind him dressing and beginning her own process of realisation. “I’m sure it would have been easier for you to wake up in your own bed, but if you apparate swiftly you’ll hopefully be there on time. If there’s anything I can do to help, please do tell me”

 

Remus didn’t want to watch her preparing to go. It was easier somehow to attempt to recapture normality; to behave like they still lived in the same shared world of organising missions, of being nothing more than fellow Order members, before the glorious insanity of the previous night had burst it all apart. Tonks was going to go back to her usual routine and it wouldn’t be long until the truth of what she’d done with a werewolf would hit her. And then how could she stand to even look at him?  

 

“Hey. Come back” 

 

A soft voice. A pair of hands on his stiff shoulders. He looked round: Tonks hadn’t moved an inch, she still lay on her side, half-dressed, amongst the warm bedding. He let himself be pulled gently back down to lie beside her again. 

 

“I said three minutes, not three seconds. Don’t panic” 

 

Her tone was amused, but unsurprised too; there was an undercurrent of determination beneath it. She kissed the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Won’t you be late?” He said. 

 

She sighed, traced a finger over the buttons he had just been so hurriedly fastening. 

 

“It’s funny” She said. “Last night I had the privilege of seeing you lose control and now I’m watching you try to reassemble yourself. Piece by piece” 

 

“I’m sorry, I - ”

 

He was cut off when his head sank suddenly lower and something soft collided with it: Tonks had swept his pillow out from underneath it and thumped him. 

 

“Stop apologising!”  She half-laughed, sitting up indignantly. “I don’t want to leave, you know. If I had my way, I’d stay in bed with you all day” 

 

“You would?”

 

“I told you last night, didn’t I? Things can be simple”

 

Remus didn’t think there was anything simple about what they had done - the werewolf and the Auror, the feverish way their bodies had joined, the wild irresponsible abandon of it - but he couldn’t tell her so. Tonks looked so genuinely, inexplicably, _mystifyingly_ happy and Remus found he didn’t have the strength to say anything that might dim the joy lighting up her face as she looked at him. 

 

But Tonks’ wand started another fanfare, even louder than before. She groaned and finally rolled away, tumbling messily across the bed. She fished her remaining items of clothing from around the room and stretched them over her head. They had barely sixty seconds left together and a reckless instinct seized Remus. He stood up with as much dignity as he could. 

 

“Tonks, if - only if - you would like to, perhaps we should… ”

 

But she didn’t seem to be listening to him. As soon as he'd started speaking, she’d spun around and bent over his desk, pulling parchment out from the middle of the stack and scratching something out using his quill. 

 

“Friday” She said, thrusting the note into his hand. “I should be home by, like, nine or so. I’ll attempt to cook something edible”

 

It was her address written in loopy, erratic handwriting. He stared at it for a moment, nonplussed. She’d forgotten that he already had her address of course, but he didn’t want to point that out. The ripped slip of parchment with three messy kisses crossed on it felt too precious. 

 

“Can you make it?” Her eager smile faltered a little at his hesitation. 

 

“I’ll be there” He said. 

 

“Wicked” She winked. “Okay, if I’m any later Scrimgeour’s gonna hex me a new one” 

 

She flung the door open, only to abruptly close it again and swivel round to face him again. 

 

“I’m not going to receive any painfully polite letters begging my forgiveness, am I?”

 

Remus looked at the floor so she wouldn’t see his cheeks redden. He shook his head, with a dry laugh.

 

“No ever-so-gentlemanly apologies or promises to leave me alone?”

 

“You have my word” 

 

She grinned and then was gone. For a moment, he could have believed that the slam of the door would herald a transformation; that suddenly none of it would have happened and he’d be standing alone in a bleak room that had never felt the existence of Nymphadora Tonks. But her presence was everywhere he looked: there were tiny pieces of ripped-up black denim scattered across the floor, ink dripping off the desk from where she’d accidentally toppled it over with her elbow, the small slip of paper that she’d given him still held between his fingers. Barely feeling the floor beneath his feet, he walked into his bathroom and found that the shower was still wet from where Tonks had used it just minutes before. His mind was oddly blank, but for a distant prickle he didn’t have a name for. When the hot water hit his chest, beginning to wash her smell off his skin, a surge of adrenaline hurtled over him. He had to lean back against the wall, forcing his breathing to steady, feeling the creep of panic fall like a shroud around his heart. The towel he wrapped around himself after the shower was still damp from Tonks’ body. His hands were shaking. 

 

He opened the bathroom door and immediately cried out, bending forward a little in shock, swearing profusely: there was a huge black dog sat on his bed, waiting for him, its tail wagging. 

 

“Out!” Remus pointed furiously at the door. “Get out!” 

 

The dog wagged its tail so vigorously that it slapped against the sheets. 

 

“There is such a thing as personal space, Sirius!” 

 

Before Remus could grab his wand, the dog leapt off the bed to gallop in a frenzied circle around the room: upsetting the chair onto its side; sending ink splattering; knocking papers flying, before bursting out of the room. Remus slammed the door behind him, gritting his teeth at the sound of human laughter coming from the hallway. Sirius knew. And the irreparable crack in Remus’ self-control, the fact that he had lost the battle with himself, felt more real than ever. He and Tonks had slept together. He had done things to her that he had sworn he would never do. All remaining lust, all dream-like disbelief, even all the dumbstruck shock he felt, were decimated by a great bloom of shame. He’d slaked all his craving for her, spent his animalistic urges inside her, allowed her to give herself to him - someone less than human. She would forget whatever fleeting pleasure he’d given her, he knew that. She would regret it. On Friday, he’d see it all in her face if he didn’t see it all written down in a letter before then. And to Sirius it was all a big joke. 

 

He began tidying the room, objects zooming back into their places, feverishly trying to erase the chaos. But even as it returned to how it had been before she’d entered it, the memories screamed out at him, beautiful and tormenting all at once, causing him to pace the room, to sit down on the bed abruptly, to jump up again and lean his head against the wall. When he knew he couldn’t delay any longer, couldn’t continue to hide from Sirius, Remus went downstairs. Every bitter step reminded him of being in the pitch-dark with Tonks, intoxicated by her, catching her as she tripped, her hard kiss sending his self-control further into oblivion. He passed the library, but couldn’t bring himself to look at it: the place where his resolve had snapped. When he reached the lowest floor of the house, he pushed open the door to the kitchen. 

 

“Sirius, I never intended for this to happen” He said from the threshold.

 

Sirius was at the cooker and he turned and looked Remus up and down. He had a spatula in one hand and a frying pan in the other. 

 

“Only you could look _that_ miserable after you just shagged the woman of your dreams” 

 

“Stop” Remus’ voice shook. “Don’t talk like that. I can’t stand it”

 

“Alright, alright - I’m sorry” Said Sirius, quickly, holding up his kitchen implements as if in surrender. “I’ll stop being a twat, I promise. I’m just happy for you, mate. That’s all” 

 

And he did look happy. Remus stared at his friend; his limbs free and easy, his posture relaxed, a whistle on his lips. Sirius’ usual breakfast consisted of a gallon of black coffee and plenty of brooding silence. But a pot of tea sat steaming in the middle of the table, with a leaning stack of toast beside it and, from the pan, came the crackle of frying eggs and browning sausages.

 

“Come and sit down. Please”

 

“What is all this?” Said Remus, warily approaching the table set for two.

 

Sirius tipped four sizzling rashers of bacon onto the plate nearest to Remus.

 

“What does it look like? I made you a breakfast feast!” 

 

Remus sat down. 

 

“Thank you” He muttered. 

 

Sirius’ eyes glittered. 

 

“I thought you might need to get your energy back up” 

 

Remus glared, powerless to prevent the heat that was rising up to his throat, the skip in his chest. 

 

“What?” Sirius said, meeting Remus’ stony gaze with a theatrical wide-eyed innocence. “After your run in with the Death Eaters I meant” 

 

“You heard about that?”

 

“Spoke t’Mad Eye s’morning” Said Sirius, swallowing half a piping hot sausage whole, and plonking himself down opposite Remus. “Overheard a bit of you and dear Nymphadora’s conversation last night too as it happens” 

 

Remus gripped his fork painfully hard. “You - you did?” 

 

“Oh yeah. My bedroom’s above the library, remember?”

 

The fork fell out of his hand and onto the table.

 

“And I’m a light sleeper these days. I heard the two of you: pacing around, having some kind of barney…so I went downstairs. I was about to walk right in, but then I heard - ” Sirius affected a clipped, earnest tone that made Remus cringe with its unflattering similarity to his own. “‘Nymphadora, promise me never to risk your life for my worthless werewolf self ever again’” He then raised the pitch of his voice, adopting Tonks’ London lilt, “’Remus Lupin, stop being such a sexually-repressed git’”

 

“That is not what we - ” 

 

“I’m paraphrasing” Said Sirius, waving his hand. “I didn’t stick around to eavesdrop on the whole thing, obviously. I figured you had some frustrations you needed to exorcise without me getting in your way. And I was right, wasn’t I?” 

 

Remus let his head sink into his hands, burning beneath Sirius’ triumphant gaze. He remembered all that he’d said, all that he’d _done_ \- and all of it impossible to take back. The future beyond this surreal breakfast was unimaginable. He’d gone so far beyond his moral allowances that he no longer had a compass to follow. 

 

“Sirius...I don’t know what to do...” Remus started, feeling helpless. “I don’t know what will happen now. It isn’t right, but I can’t take it back…I can’t….I can’t…” His breath was catching in his throat, his heart racing.

 

“Moony…” Said Sirius, his chair screeching as he stood up. “Stop”

 

Sirius came round to him and seized Remus’ wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. 

 

“ _Breathe_. Listen to me” 

 

Remus looked into his old friend’s face: the dark eyebrows, the angular cheekbones, the familiar black eyes, their habitual empty wildness now replaced with affectionate conviction.

 

“I know you’re confused. But she likes you. And you like her” He said, squeezing Remus’ shoulders hard with each phrase. “That’s all there is. Alright?”  

 

Remus gaped at him. Sirius was talking like they were back at school and he was trying to convince him that a particularly careless prank wasn’t going to land them in yet another detention. 

 

“But, Sirius - ”

 

“Don’t obsess about the future, or what’s right or wrong, or any of that self-torturing bullshit! She’s sure as hell not thinking that way!”

 

“But, Sirius, - ” 

 

“I saw her this morning. Bumped into her as she was leaving” Sirius said, interrupting him with gentle firmness. “Mate, she was _beaming_. I’ve never seen her so elated”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, really. I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that. She flung her arms around me, squeezed the breath out of my lungs, and then practically twirled out of the door. You must have done something right”

 

Remus didn’t speak, tongue-tied by hope, daring to believe that Sirius was right even as he cursed himself for doing so. 

 

“When are you seeing her again?” Said Sirius, more gently now. “Bearing in mind that ‘the next Order meeting’ is not an acceptable answer”

 

“Friday” 

 

Sirius slapped his shoulder.

 

“See! That’s exactly what I’m telling you” He was standing again, striding confidently around the table. “She wants you around. It’s simple” 

 

“Simple” Said Remus, as if the word was a part of a language he was unfamiliar with. “That’s the word she used” 

 

“She and I are the two smartest members of our rotten family tree, you should listen to us” Sirius tucked back into his breakfast, chomping with a sudden nonchalance that Remus found suspicious. “Tell you what…why don’t I give you two a little bit of space? I could take myself on a walk. Just as far as the Heath, nothing crazy”

 

“Padfoot, you know very well that’s out of the question. Besides…” Remus felt the blood rush to his cheeks again and he looked down at the tablecloth. “There’s no need. She’s invited me to her flat” 

 

“Has she now?” Sirius raised his eyebrows, spreading a thick layer of marmite over his toast with an air of victory. 

 

“It doesn’t mean…of course I’m not presuming to…” Remus stuttered, embarrassed again. “I know she couldn’t possibly want anything _real_ , anything public…I’m lucky just to…Well…I don’t know”

 

There was a pause in which Sirius stared at him. For the first time that morning, he looked a little uncertain. His chewing slowed and his brow furrowed, as if he was weighing something up. Remus felt certain that Sirius was simply trying to decide on the best way to save his feelings by not agreeing outright. 

 

“It’s gonna be alright, mate” He said, eventually. “Trust me. Just…try not to think too much, alright? Just go and see her on Friday” 

 

Remus gingerly began to build up his plate, reaching for the dry toast first. He didn’t want to disappoint Sirius, but everything tasted like ash. 

 

———

 

Though Friday was unimaginable, the week marched inexorably on towards it. Everything Remus did - standing guard at the Department of Mysteries, pouring over the newspaper to note the conspicuous lack of real news, trying to decipher what were pieces of valuable intelligence and what were drunken ramblings from Mundungus’ latest reports - was haunted by memories that tortured as much as they tantalised. He could barely sleep in his bedroom, remembering how her naked body had writhed in the exact spot where he lay, and he kept hearing the words repeated: _you can trust me…you can trust yourself…I want to feel your skin against mine…How about I prove it to you…_ Over and again, the tussle between longing and logic; anticipation and dread.

 

So Remus found himself, holding a wine bottle that had cost him a few too many coins from his dwindling stock, walking down the Roman Road to Tonks’ flat. The moon was a thin sliver in the sky, its light scarcely visible as he walked beneath the yellow globes of the street lamps. It was the better part of the month for him: a brief sweet spot between recovery and decline. More than once, though, he stopped in his tracks: berating himself, telling himself to stop being so ridiculous, almost giving away the bottle of wine - the physical manifestation of his presumption - to strangers in the street. But somehow his legs carried him all the way to her building. 

 

It was an ordinary looking muggle block from the outside but when he was buzzed inside he found himself at the foot of a narrow staircase that was practically fizzing with magic. As he ascended, passing front doors in various shades of purple, he glanced at the noticeboard lining the wall and its whirring, flashing messages (‘Don’t miss the East London Wizarding Society’s Annual Magical Bingo Night!’, ‘To a certain resident of this building - you know who you are!! - kindly refrain from vanishing your rubbish instead of giving it to landfill, the muggle bin men are starting to ask questions!’, ‘Five fluffy owlets for sale or rent - enquire at no.4’).

 

Remus gently rapped Tonks’ front door, hoping that none of her neighbours would emerge and catch sight of him, feeling a sickening foreboding. He concealed the wine behind his back, dearly wishing he’d thrown it in the canal. As soon as he clapped eyes on Tonks though, all his expectations of rejection were cast to the wind. Her face broke open into a breathtaking smile. She wasn’t wearing the thick, dark clothing he had seen her in last, but a dazzle of colour. Her hair was long, straight and tangerine. Her white t-shirt was slightly ripped, displaying the dates of the last Weird Sisters tour and tucked into a waist-high mini skirt of a violently purple zig-zag pattern. Her legs and feet were bare though it was still January and there were flakes of snow on Remus’ robes from his walk outside. Sirius was right and Remus felt suddenly, insanely grateful: she did want him around.

 

“Wotcher” She said, a little breathless. “Fancy seeing you here”

 

“Good evening, Tonks”

 

They stood smiling gormlessly at one another for longer than was natural until Tonks laughed, small circles of pink on her pale cheeks, and pulled him inside by the front of his robes. 

 

“Get in! It’s freezing in the stairwell. I’ve made the flat nice and toasty”

 

“I brought a bottle”

 

“Smashing!” She said, whisking it out of his hand. “I’ll crack this open” 

 

Remus couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t meaningless small talk, either too unspeakably dull to be worthy of her or too darkly serious to match her bubbly mood. He floundered and looked around the flat instead, though that too overwhelmed him by the sheer Tonks-ness of it. The cosy, open-plan room was crammed full of colour: mismatched rugs, a sofa covered with patchwork blankets, posters of bands both muggle and wizard adorning the walls, a dusty pink bass guitar in one corner. On her mantelpiece was a collection of photographs. He saw Tonks at her graduation with a tall witch’s hat perched precariously on spiky rainbow-hued hair, grinning widely between a glamorous, unmistakeably Black-family mother and a chuckling father. He saw Tonks as a hyperactive child, attempting to juggle pieces of fruit at a market stall, beside an older women with a blond beehive and a floor-length leopard print coat who shared Tonks’ same heart-shaped face. He saw Tonks, close to her present age, wearing a striped bikini and frolicking in the sea, flipping back a waist-length plait of hair, surrounded by an array of impossibly carefree and healthy-looking friends. It might as well have been a photograph of Tonks on another planet. Remus felt his spirits sink, a lump forming in his stomach. But then something else caught his eye. Across the room, her bedroom door was open. There, sitting on a small table, was his mother’s old record player. His Christmas gift to Tonks. He stared, his mouth opening slightly, in the realisation that she kept it right beside her bed. He was caught entirely unawares when something large and feathery came into land onto his shoulder.

 

“Hello” Said Remus, blinking in surprise.

 

He coaxed the eagle owl down his arm to perch on his hand. It stared into Remus’ face, clicking its beak and winking one dark orange eye then the other. Remus gently touched the rich, tawny-coloured feathers with the back of his knuckles.

 

“Oh bugger. Mildred, get off him!” Tonks exclaimed, approaching them and holding two enormous glasses of wine. “Watch out for her, Remus, she’s a biter…..oh” 

 

Tonks stopped in her tracks. Her face was comically frozen in a mask of stunned surprise as she watched Remus stroking the placid owl. 

 

“She never lets me do that” She said, sounding half-impressed, half-envious. 

 

“She must be in a benevolent mood this evening” Said Remus. 

 

“No, no - you don’t understand - the words benevolent and Mildred do not belong in the same sentence! She’s a complete monster most of the time”  

 

At these words, Mildred bounced up off of Remus’ hand and flapped haughtily away out of the window. Tonks passed Remus his glass, before knocking back a large gulp of hers.  

 

“Cheers for this” She said. “I bloody need it after the week I’ve had” 

 

“That bad?”

 

“Lousy. They’ve shut me out of all the Sirius investigations and Dawlish - he’s the resident tosser - doesn’t waste an opportunity to gloat about it. They’ve claimed the discovery of that tunnel as a Ministry victory of course, anything to distract from the clusterfuck of the department’s failures, but they’re not telling the press and - wait - no - ” Tonks gave her head a shake. “Stop me. This flat is a war-free zone for the night. So tell me, how was _your_ week?” 

 

But Remus had forgotten. Her words _for the night_ had flooded his brain and drowned all its contents. He took a sip of wine, as if it would clear his head. 

 

“I fear I’m about to disappoint you Tonks, but it was nothing but Order business”

 

“Oh come on, you're not as sensible as you pretend to be”

 

Their eyes met and for a second Remus was transported back to his candlelit bedroom and the sensation of her hot skin beneath his hands, her gasp against his mouth. Tonks cocked her head to one side and smiled, more colour in her cheeks, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. 

 

“Erm, well…” Remus considered it, before gratefully remembering the single anecdote he had. “On Wednesday afternoon, Sirius announced that he had a grand plan to give Buckbeak a little exercise. Naturally, he enlisted my help”

 

“Naturally” Said Tonks, smiling her encouragement. 

 

“We temporarily vanished the entire kitchen to create a ring, of sorts. But anyone who knows Buckbeak knows that he’s as stubborn as hippogriffs come and if it wasn’t truly flying and stretching his wings, he was having none of it. We tried to coax him into a run and got a few pecks for our trouble. Sirius ended up transforming and jumping at his heels to try and excite him into a canter, whilst I ran backwards and waved a dead kipper as enticement. Then Kreacher came in and started shouting abuse at us. Complete pandemonium”

 

Tonks was laughing, with her head tipped back.  “I would pay good galleons to witness that! I’ve always suspected that the two of you get up to weird shenanigans when left to your own devices”

 

“Old friends tend to develop strange ways with one another” Remus said, with a dry smile at the floor.

 

“It’s good that you’re around for Sirius” Said Tonks, looking earnest all of a sudden. “I dunno how he’d cope otherwise” 

 

“Oh…I’m not always the best company” 

 

“Outrageous modesty. You’re cracking company”

 

Was it just Remus or had she moved closer? He swallowed. 

 

“Your flat is lovely”

 

“Not quite as lovely as you might think given I spend half my monthly salary on rent for the sodding place, but…I’m very fond of it. It’s my home” She gestured around, a tiny bit of wine sloshing onto the floor. “You should count yourself lucky by the way, I cleaned and tidied before you arrived”

 

Over her shoulder, he could see a small line of drying socks suspended in her bedroom, muddy boot prints in the hallway and owl treats scattered on the windowsill. 

 

“It’s positively sparkling” He said, with a straight face. 

 

“Sarcastic prat” 

 

Tonks gave him a light punch to the arm and the gentle impact sent a tingle running through him.

 

“Tell me about your place up north” Tonks said. “That’s where you were before everything kicked off, right? The Moors?” 

 

“Well, it’s barely a cottage” Said Remus, dropping his gaze. “Far away from any towns, surrounded by hills. In late Summer, the heather flowers and all the land turns purple. So it can be rather beautiful”

 

A dreamy expression spread over Tonks’ face. “I’d like to go”

 

“No, you wouldn’t” Remus assured her, wanting to banish the thought of Tonks ever seeing his poor excuse for a dwelling. “Really, it’s quite desolate. Especially in the winter. Completely isolated”

 

There was a short silence.  
 

“Were you lonely?”

 

“Yes” Remus said quietly, unable to lie, disarmed as he always was by her directness, pinned as if on a needle.

 

“What about now?”

 

To be a werewolf was to be lonely. He knew that as much as he knew his own name and yet - 

 

“No” 

 

Tonks set her glass down on the kitchen table and slipped her hand into his. Remus felt as though the floor was about to crumble beneath him and he would soon be sliding down into the flat below.

 

“You know, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this week” She said.

 

“So have I” Said Remus, heavily. 

 

He set his glass down too, but he didn’t know what to say. She bit her lip and the gesture brought all his latent desire rocketing up to the surface. She was holding his eye contact and he was unable to look away, but at the base of his gaze he could see her chest moving, the thin white material stretching around the swell of her breasts as she breathed ever more deeply. The feel of her hand in his made him crave contact with the rest of her.

 

“It’s been quite distracting actually”

 

He saw the curl of her smile, the tease in her eyes as she spoke these words to him, but then he was gone: leaning forward to tip her chin up and kissing her, tasting red wine in her sweet, hot mouth. Her kiss became hungry and urgent, she pulled him close, backing up against the kitchen counter. He wanted her, all of her, again and he felt the same wave of desire shake her too, so strong he couldn’t deny it. Everything was happening too quickly for him to think. She moaned as he kissed her jaw, neck, collarbone and then pressed her hands hard on his shoulders to hoist herself up to sitting on the counter. Her bare legs opened to let him in and his hands roved up beneath her skirt to the smooth warmth of her thighs. 

 

“Is this what you were thinking about?” She said in his ear.

 

She gripped his hair, hard, and pulled his head back to look at her. Her gaze was blazing, challenging, making him believe that he could be bold, that she wanted it. He dropped to his knees on the hard tiled floor of the kitchen.

 

“This is” He said, relishing her gasped “Oh fuck, yes” as he pulled her by the knees to the edge of the counter.

 

He reached to find her underwear and dragged it, as gently as he could, down her legs and slipped it off her ankles. He pressed his lips against the inside of her thighs, all the way from the soft fleshiness near her knees to the dark crease at the top, cherishing the intimacy of it, the privilege of the act. He did what his fingers had done for her before. He used his tongue, at first gently, then insistently, to discover what she needed; adoring her reactions as pleasure blossomed where his mouth met the glorious, warm nub of her, his senses overwhelmed. Nothing in the world could be greater than giving her pleasure. Nothing could be better than hearing the sounds of abandonment she was making, holding her legs in place as she shuddered out of control, being able to give her something of unadulterated goodness when there was so little else he was able to give her.

 

Then she was pulling him back up to his feet and her hands were eagerly working at his buttons and zip to free him. He took her on the counter. He could have exploded with pleasure inside her hot firmness immediately but he fought against it: forcing himself to focus on her, to do all he could in the hope of further satisfying her. Their union was frantic, sometimes clumsy - bumping heads, forgetting to remove bits of clothing, moving around the flat with complete carelessness - but to him it was magnificent. He never thought he’d live to hear something as wonderful as her calling out his name.

 

Afterwards, they lay; hot and twisted up in the blankets of her sofa. His brain dulled by pleasure, just as his body was alive with it, Remus wasn’t able to think of a single thing other than how on earth it could be that their bodies in all their fundamental differences - the beauty of hers, the brokenness of his - could work together in such mad, pleasurable harmony. 

 

“I’ve got something to confess” Tonks said, once they’d recovered their breath. 

 

“What is it?”

 

“I tried to cook something edible for you, like I said I would, but it all went tits up. I can’t seem to temper my magic from fighting mode to domestic mode. Boiling charms, roasting charms, frying charms - they just seem to go all explode-y whenever I attempt them on food” 

 

Remus hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath, assuming the very worst, until he let out a bark of laughter. She rolled over to look at him, tucking herself into the nook of his shoulder, and laughed too. 

 

“You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble” He said.

 

“It was no bother in the end. I cheated and went to my fave Italian place down the road…” 

 

Tonks reached for her wand and soon two white boxes, encased in warming charms, came floating over from the kitchen. Food had never tasted so good as when he ate it - sitting opposite Tonks who had dressed herself in nothing but his jumper - watching her spilling tagliatelle down her front. And later, wine had never tasted so good as when they finished it - with the lights turned low and a vinyl spinning in the record player - in bed. They talked until their eyes began to close, the music stopped and the needle crackled on the turntable. Tonks began to mumble and sigh in his arms. 

 

He was grateful for every second she gave him. He knew that pain would come. One day, she would make the right decision that it was time for her to seek something better. She would become tired of this strange, secretive connection with her werewolf friend. Or perhaps she would meet someone she could fall in love with; someone full of life and exuberance like her; someone who didn’t have to live on the margins of society; someone who wasn’t too dangerous to ever share a home with. Whether it would be days or weeks from that night, he didn't know. But he was accustomed to waiting for pain: that was the rhythm of his life. He couldn’t save himself from it, not now he knew what it was to take her in his arms, so he doomed himself to waiting. He kissed her tangerine-coloured hair, though he knew she couldn’t feel it as she slept and he allowed himself a brief, excruciating wish that their time of simplicity would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Sorry everyone for the wait. The editing of this chapter coincided with a very tricky time for me, personally and professionally, but I’m so happy to finally share it with you. Updates should hopefully return to their normal schedule (fortnightly, sort of) from now on. THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and kudos (woo 200!), you guys cheer me up so much! Let me know what you think of this chapter if you get a chance :) T xxx


	17. Spring Leaves

**Chapter 16: Spring Leaves**

 

“I think perhaps it would be wise for us to have a conversation” 

 

Tonks swung her legs cheerfully back and forth, her heavy boots soaring above the hundred feet drop below them, Remus’ sudden graveness making her giggle a little. 

 

“Well, I should bloody well hope so. It’s going to be a long night otherwise” 

 

Remus gave her a sideways look. She bumped her shoulder against his and his serious expression broke, returning her smile with an attitude of long-suffering amusement. They were perched, side-by-side, on one of the brick towers of a vast suspension bridge. Tonks’ hair was a warm chestnut and of an impractically long length; it fluttered all around them in the wind, stroking across their robes and streaming out behind them.

 

“That’s not quite what I meant, Tonks” 

 

“I know” 

 

She took his cold hand and squeezed it. For a moment they forgot themselves and stared at one another; Tonks all confident affection, Remus all earnest caution. But then a jolt of remembrance hit them simultaneously and their heads snapped back to attention, fixing their gaze on the cliff face. They were on a stake-out. Kingsley was leaking intelligence from the heart of the Auror department’s war room - all the details of the hunt for the Azkaban escapees that Tonks was no longer privy to - right into the Order of the Phoenix. So far, the might of the Ministry was not proving mighty enough to shake any Death Eaters from their hideouts and it was becoming increasingly desperate. The notoriously imprecise Improper Use of Magic Office was brought in to detect ‘unusual magical disturbances’: a list of locations was produced and the Aurors selected the ones they thought most likely, with the Order of the Phoenix scooping up the rest. Any breakthrough would be worth it, but Tonks knew they were clutching at straws. Bellatrix and her unsavoury companions had withdrawn; deep into the protection of their master. In Tonks’ opinion, you-know-who was biding his time - and she didn’t have a clue what for.

 

But at least there was no one else Tonks would rather spend six hours staring at a rock with: thank Merlin for Sirius and his ever-reliable fixing of the mission rota. Watching in vain for any sign of a broomstick, a ripple of magic, a familiar, sinister face would be unspeakably dull in the company of anyone else. It was actually sort of romantic, Tonks decided. Their view took in the trees covering the limestone crags of the Avon Gorge. Below them, the river was turning black as the sun went down and Remus looked handsome with the rosy light of the setting sun on his face. 

 

“I meant a conversation about…everything that’s been happening between us”

 

Tonks didn’t laugh this time, but she did roll her eyes. She had watched Remus Lupin’s expression at the height of ecstasy, heard him whisper things into her ear that made her scrunch her toes with the thrill of it all, but unless it was within the heat of the moment itself, he was shy and euphemistic - with a composed politeness that endeared her as much as it could be exasperating. It wasn’t that Tonks _didn’t_ want to talk about what they were, what was happening or where they going - because she did - but she was trying her best to be sensible. And this ever so uncharacteristic approach was recommended to her by someone for whom it was just as uncharacteristic an approach: Sirius.

 

When she’d left Remus’ bedroom that first surreal morning, she felt like with just one jump she could have rocketed straight up into the air, crashed through each successive ceiling and exploded out of the ancient bricks into the clouds. That was where her brain was when she collided with him on her way out, her chin colliding painfully with a bony collarbone. 

 

“Morning” He said, raising both eyebrows, a wolfish grin spreading over his face as he held her still by the shoulders. “And what are you doing here?”

 

She knew that he knew she’d stayed the night: it was written all over his face. She tried to think of something funny to say or, just, _something_ to say but nothing came. The truth had barely sunk in, but she was electrified by it all the same. She clapped her hand to her mouth and laughed, a pure, belly-deep, delighted laugh. Sirius grabbed her in a bear hug. 

 

“Finally” He said.

 

Tonks nodded vigorously, Sirius’ unkempt hair tickling her cheek. 

 

“And all it took was a near death experience” She said. 

 

Sirius pulled back, but kept a grip on her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. 

 

“What happened exactly?”

 

“Ask Moody - he’ll explain” Tonks said.

 

She spoke quickly now because she was starting to see, in her mind’s eye, the precise shade of crimson that Scrimgeour’s face was surely going to turn when she rocked up late with some obviously made-up excuse.

 

“I’ve gotta go” 

 

She broke away and went to hurry past Sirius, but he stepped in front of her. 

 

“Just…one minute” He said. 

 

Tonks looked back at him, bewildered.

 

“What is it?”

 

Sirius’ eyes flicked quickly towards the stairs behind her, before locking onto hers; they were intense, almost conspiratorial. 

 

“There’s something you need to hear and, look, I know you don’t like being told what to do - I’m the same, I get it - but I know Remus better than anyone. _Go gently with him, Tonks_. He’s his own worst enemy and he’ll assume the worst at every turn. Don’t rush things. Don’t give him an excuse to panic”

 

Sirius was right: Tonks did not like being told what to do. As for the rest of it…Tonks opened and closed her mouth, unable to settle on one coherent reaction. Her mind cycled through an initial flash of defensiveness (she knew that her feelings for Remus were reciprocated, how dare Sirius suggest that there was even the slightest chance of him bolting now?), a prodded ego (what exactly did Sirius think she was planning on doing - answering the door to Remus on Friday in a wedding dress?!) but then…She swallowed, remembering how quick Remus had been to leap into his old ways when he thought she was about to walk out; withdrawing as if into a protective shell. Was what they had really so fragile? 

 

“He’ll be worth the wait” Sirius said quietly. 

 

Her heart thumped her into acceptance. Even the longest, windiest road would be worth it if Remus was at the end of it. She’d do whatever it took, including resisting her bull-in-a-china-shop instincts. She would prove - starting with his visit to her flat that Friday - that they could be, in all their extraordinariness, ‘normal’ together. Slapping a label on it (as if any label could be worth of them anyway) could wait. So Tonks didn’t argue with Sirius: she’d planted a kiss on his scratchy cheek, squeezed his arm and left 12 Grimmauld Place at a run. Weeks later, as she held Remus’ hand on top of a bridge whilst the sun burnt and died on the horizon and they were facing down the wand tip of an Important Conversation, Tonks reminded herself: _Go gently with him._  

 

“Alright, conversation time” She said, crossing her legs. “I’ll go first - everything is bloody marvellous right now. That’s really all I’ve got to say” 

 

“You’d tell me if you ever felt uncomfortable?” 

 

“Did I seem uncomfortable the other night?”

 

She adored the answering look in his eyes. Like a hot knife through butter, a few words from her could melt his respectable restraint. The other night Tonks had snuck up to his bedroom after an Order meeting and she knew he was now picturing the sight that had greeted him on walking into the room: Tonks waiting for him, on his desk. His desire was infectious and Tonks wanted to throw their mission to hell and pull him into a kiss. The risk that they would topple off the bridge and into oblivion was high, but she could think of worst ways to go…

 

“Things are exactly how I want them to be” She said.

 

“Yes. I completely understand that you don’t want anyone to know” He said, his tone strange suddenly. “And don’t worry, I certainly don’t" 

 

He’d spoken so quickly she hadn’t had time to interrupt him. That was not what she had meant. Though she wasn’t eager to be the subject of Order of the Phoenix gossip, his quickness hurt her a little. Remus didn’t see her face fall. The sky was dark now and he was staring up at it, his jaw clenched slightly. 

 

“Okay” She said, carefully. “But only ‘cause it’s no one else’s business. This belongs to us”

 

She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it, fiercely. They had their own little world - what did it matter if only Sirius knew for the time being? There was nothing like slipping into Remus’ bed, exhausted from a night of tracking, in the early hours of the morning. Stirring, only half-awake, he’d wrap his arms around her and bury his face in the nape of her neck and she would sleep more sweetly and deeply than she ever could alone. In the mornings, he would touch his lips to her bare shoulder, she would reach her hand down to where he pressed against her and they would have sleepy, satisfying sex - wishing that the alarm demanding their return to the inevitable responsibilities of Order and Ministry would never sound. 

 

Tonks looked up at the moon. Now that the sky was dark it hung, pearly and unobscured by cloud, shaped like an almond. A roundish almond. No wonder Remus was a little blue tonight. 

 

“How are you feeling?” She asked him, suddenly. 

 

“Oh, fine” He said. 

 

But she saw his head drop. He’d been staring at it. Tonks shifted uneasily where she sat. She wanted to be there for him, but Remus guarded that side of his life so closely that even her most delicately phrased questions (not the mention the indelicately phrased ones) were expertly evaded. She wanted to be the one with the whole shebang - bandages, potions, tea, chocolate for breakfast - in the mornings after every full moon. But it was baby steps. One evening at home, Tonks dug out her long-neglected potions encyclopedia and flicked through it, sneezing at the dust that rose from its pages: W for Wolfsbane. She was swiftly disappointed. Not only would she need to be able to return to her cauldron several times a day, the ingredient cost was eye-watering. She shoved the encyclopedia back in upside down. She hated seeing him suffer. He barely spoke of it, but the signs were everywhere; manifesting themselves in ways that even he himself seemed unaware of. He always dressed as quickly as possible, covering his torso even whilst she was still lying there, panting and basking in the after-effects of their coupling. He always neatly pulled the curtains in 12 Grimmauld Place shut before the sun had even truly set to keep the moon out. He sometimes rested his head in his palm, frowning with his closed eyelids fluttering a little, when he didn’t know she was watching. She knew that the body she kissed, stroked, desired, would twist and reshape every month. That his mind would utterly disappear…or…be forced into the background…or…well, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t quite know exactly.

 

“I won’t be able to see you for a few days” Remus said. “I’m sorry”

 

“I understand” She said. “And the reason doesn’t phase me one bit. You know that, don’t you?” 

 

Remus didn’t reply for a few seconds. When he looked at her, it was as if he was watching the performance of a miracle, a little unreadable, a little shell-shocked. And then she couldn’t resist: she kissed him and he kissed her back. It ended more quickly than either of them wanted, because it had to, but Remus’ arm encircled her and she snuggled into him, reluctantly returning her glance to the cliff face.

 

“I will really miss you, Tonks” 

 

She smiled, resisting the urge to shut her eyes, her head rested on his chest. The noise of the traffic below and the rush of wind in her ears seemed to fade out. Perhaps things were exactly how she wanted them to be. 

 

———

 

On the day of the full moon, Tonks visited her parents. Instead of flooing in, she apparated into their front garden. Now that the Ministry, in its infinite wisdom, had cut its civilian-protection budget, all they had were security charms. Tonks’ parents were too proud to agree to let her test them, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She strode around the edges of the garden, giving the pond - where, as a growing toddler she'd once turned all the tadpoles luminescent pink - a wide berth and trying not to trample her dad’s crocuses beneath her boots. She tweaked the charms, bolstering their strength until she was satisfied. Remembering something funny Remus had said to her the previous week - and how the bright glint of attraction and appreciation in his face never dimmed even when beer was coming out of her nose - made her dawdle on the stepping stone path to the front door. Tonks started when she looked up and saw her mother bursting out of the house. Though Andromeda Tonks was as impeccably dressed as ever, with her thick hair tied up in an elegant chignon, she was shoeless and hurrying towards Tonks. 

 

“Have they been captured?” She demanded, her usually low and melodic voice breathy. 

 

“What? You mean…the Death Eaters?” Said Tonks, her brow crumpling in confusion. “No, Mum... Not yet” 

 

Andromeda stopped short. 

 

“Oh” She said. Her face froze. One hand came absently up to smooth the back of her hair. “I saw you out of the window, smiling. I suppose, I…assumed you had good news. I don’t quite know what came over me” 

 

“Mum…” Tonks began, her heart sinking, unfooted by seeing her mother, however briefly, unravelled.  

 

“Come inside, Nymphadora” She said, as if nothing unusual had happened, turning gracefully back towards the house. “Your father’s made soup”

 

Rooted to the spot, Tonks didn’t immediately follow her. The past few weeks had been such a whirlwind - a distracting and exhausting mixture of pleasure and toil - that she’d barely had time to give thought to the strain under which her parents were living. Tonks had never had a sister, so she knew she couldn’t entirely imagine the precise and disturbing pain that her mum must be feeling. Standing in front of her childhood home, Tonks’ guilt at concealing her double life had never weighed heavier in her gut. There were so many things that she couldn’t tell them - and some things she simply wouldn’t. She had to protect them in any way she could. And concealing the fact that Tonks was now certain - if Lucius Malfoy’s curled lip up-and-down glances in the halls of the Ministry were anything to go by - that the Death Eaters knew she was an Auror was one such way to spare them additional anxiety. At least the Death Eaters were ignorant of Tonks’ role down in the tunnels below Whitehall. But….Tonks’ wand hand twitched…how sweet it would be to tell Bellatrix exactly that…whilst Tonks had a wand at her spine and a pair of binding cuffs at the ready. An icy determination stole over her. She’d been so close to catching Bellatrix. She’d been _so bloody close_ to locking her up, far away from her family and every other family that was at risk from her deranged violence, and throwing away the key. The next time they met, Tonks vowed to herself, she would take her.   
 

Over lunch, Tonks kept a close hold over her tongue during conversation with her parents. Her life with the Order had become inseparable from every true answer to her dad’s how-are-you-Dora, what’s-new-Dora, anything-funny-happened-recently-Dora? She didn’t have a single entertaining anecdote that didn’t involve Remus, Sirius or anyone else she wasn’t supposed to have met. She knew her scanty replies made her seem detached, vague - even boring. She hoped it was just paranoia that her parents seemed to be exchanging subtle glances over the carrot and coriander. Once their bowls were empty, Tonks busied herself with clearing the table in the hope of avoiding further questioning. No such luck.

 

“So what were you smiling about?” Her mother asked, catching the soup bowl that Tonks was hovering dangerously close to the window.

 

_Here we go…_

 

“The Weird Sisters’ sixth album is coming out tomorrow” Said Tonks, without so much as a blink.

 

“Merlin save us, not another one”

 

Tonks gave her best withering look in response.

 

“I only ask because I ran into Josephine Drudge in Madame Malkin’s the other day” 

 

“Josephine Drudge needs to wind her neck in”

 

“Be that as it may, she told me that you’ve been coming and going at all hours - if you’re there at all”

 

This was bad news. Though she dreaded what Josephine Drudge would say if she saw Remus knocking on her door, the risks ran far deeper: loose-lipped neighbours were as dangerous to security as even the shoddiest protection charm. 

 

“I work a lot of night shifts so I keep weird hours. There’s nothing mysterious going on, Mum”

 

“I thought you’d been kept away from the senior hunting team?”

 

“Yeah exactly - and been put onto the grunt work! We’re fighting a war - even if the higher-ups won’t admit it”

 

Tonks could swear her mother’s gaze could cut glass. 

 

“Have you met someone?”

 

Tonks scoffed in what she hoped was a convincing way. “No!”

 

“Our girl’s allowed a private life, ’Dromeda” Ted laughed from the sofa. “Don’t interrogate her” 

 

“Cheers, Dad” Tonks winked at him, before taking her robes off the hook by the door. “Alright, cheerio, those Death Eaters aren’t going to catch themselves…”

 

From the door, she looked back at them, unable to resist a little teenage-era sarcasm:

 

“Oh and I’ll say hi to my new boyfriend from you! Proper snappy dresser, he works for the galleon-counting team, earns sackfuls of dosh and definitely, definitely exists - you’d absolutely love him!” 

 

“Goodbye, Nymphadora”

 

———

 

March bloomed. Remus returned from his full moon isolation. Through the glut of missions and responsibilities, they found a mutual afternoon of freedom to spend together.

 

“A walk?” Remus suggested.

 

“What a charming idea” Tonks grinned at him and wound her arms around his waist. “Lead the way”

 

She closed her eyes, enjoying how the whirling melee of apparition pushed their bodies in tight. They materialised with a _crack_ in a deserted Welsh woodland. They rambled; traversing up and down little hills, jumping over streams, levitating any inconveniently placed thickets before carefully placing them back down again in their wake. The air was fresh and crisp, the sunshine dappling through the branches onto the ground at their feet. They talked as if they’d been apart for triple the time. It was so good to see Remus laugh again; the tiredness lifting from him the longer they spent just _being_ \- no mission to complete, just them. Tonks could have skipped, but she marched forward, swinging his hand in hers instead. Who needed fancy meals out, pretentious shows, or claustrophobic coffee houses? Who needed to spend time together in public when you could find your own patch on the forest floor, conjure up a blanket and lie down to watch the clouds drift across the sky? Tonks didn’t. 

 

“Remus?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Someone should invent time-pausers” She said. “Like time-turners, but they’d let you halt everything. We could just twiddle the contraption, say a few words, and then lie here in this forest exactly as we are now but for as long as we want. The Ministry…the Death Eaters…everyone else…just freezes as they are until we’re ready to go back and deal with them again”

 

“If only”

 

Tonks rolled to face him, her hand stroking his cheek, turning his head towards her. There was something elegiac in his tone, a yearning barely an inch away from sadness. Their noses touched. Then Remus whispered under his breath, his wand doing a small circle where he held it in between where they lay. The air shimmered above and around them, rippling to form the faintest of domes. 

 

“What are you doing?” Tonks asked, though she knew exactly what spells he had cast and anticipation was making its way, in bursts of tiny, hot butterflies, around her entire body. 

 

“The next best thing to a time-pauser” He said. 

 

Soon they were tumbling together. Their fervency was too much for the blanket beneath them and Tonks felt cool earth smudging on her bare skin, twigs wedging into her hair, but she relished it all. When it was over, they lay together with their faces close, not speaking. Tonks felt as if she could burst: she had thought her feelings for him couldn’t get any stronger, but they just kept on building; a runaway train barrelling on and on, accelerating at every bend. The power of it scared her and that was the only thing keeping her from gushing out the absolute truth: that although it was soon, that although it may well be completely insane, she knew in her heart that she wanted to see those kind, grey eyes every day for the rest of her life. One day, she wouldn’t be too scared to say it and he wouldn’t be too scared to hear it. They were almost there. Remus reached for his clothes and Tonks looked up at the blue sky and smiled. Tiny buds of green leaves were forming at the ends of the crooked branches above their heads. It was almost Spring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading everyone! Nine chapters remaining…


	18. Thirty Six

**Chapter 17: Thirty Six**

****

Remus stood silently guarding the Department of Mysteries when the ninth of March became the tenth. There was no clock, or watch on his wrist, for him to note the precise second that the minute hand clicked to attention on the hour. But he knew that it had happened: the steady, inexorable march forwards; the solid fact that another number had squeezed itself into the already crowded gap between his age and Tonks’. All small talk with Hestia beside him had been exhausted and Remus felt the obsessive pull of worry tug him deeper into his own mind. They had hours to go until the end of the shift; hours in which to lose himself to dwelling.

 

By the time the first employees were arriving at the Ministry of Magic, Remus was back at the house. The inside of his eyelids felt like sandpaper. His feet throbbed from yet another all-nighter. , whispered a spiteful voice in his head, as he went stiffly up the stairs. He passed Sirius in the hallway and they acknowledged each other with a nod. Remus felt relieved. He was grateful for the small mercy that the only person who could know it was his birthday had forgotten. All Remus wanted was to take refuge in his bed for a nap. But despite his exhaustion, when he finally got beneath the sheets his mind kept on racing. The only thing that eventually soothed him into sleep was the faint lingering smell of Tonks’ hair on his pillow.

 

He woke to the sound of Sirius kicking his door. 

 

“Meeting’s about to start. Everyone’s arriving”

 

Remus groaned. With barely any time to smooth his clothes, he hurried down to the busy kitchen. He was uncomfortably conscious of how grey and tired he must look: baggy under the eyes, puffy cheeks, hair fresh from being flattened against a pillow. Molly immediately handed him a steaming mug of tea and he managed to smile. That was all the gift he needed. He took a seat at the table, nodding around the room and feeling the blood begin to circulate in him once again in the company of the Order and its lively tumult.

 

Then Tonks came in and every single other person present might as well have disappeared into puffs of smoke. How could the simple act of her walking into a room reduce him to a puddle on the floor? Snape’s quiet jibes about tardiness bounced off her as she beamed, hugged and high fived her way around the kitchen before plonking herself down in the chair next to his. Though he craved closeness to her, he wished she hadn’t. It wasn’t easy to sit beside Tonks for a full hour and maintain a strict facade of professional amicability, without whispering something in her ear to make her smile or linking his fingers through hers or watching her as her face moved through all her ridiculous, beautiful expressions. Harder still was the awareness of how mismatched they must look sat together for all to see: her vivacity next to his drabness, her open, pretty face next to his drained, pallid complexion. As Remus took another sip of tea, he noticed that a thread from the hem of his sleeve was dangling.

 

Mad Eye knocked a wooden chair leg with his own leg - the usual signal for the room to fall quiet. Sirius looked up and spoke sharply over the hush.

 

“Isn’t Dumbledore coming?”

 

Mad Eye’s mouth jerked impatiently.

 

“Leave Hogwarts now? With the so-called High Inquisitor haunting the castle ready to move into his seat as soon as he does? No. Dumbledore’s not leaving his post”

 

Sirius glowered, his jaw stiffening.

 

“Right. Well” He said. “I’ll write him a letter then. Another one” 

 

Though Remus had tried to counsel him against it, Sirius had been planning to propose an end to his house arrest that day. He wanted to confront Dumbledore about the arrangement in front of the entire Order, hoping to force his hand. The proposal consisted of a number of plans, some more wildly illogical than others, to allow him out before he started smashing the windows. Sirius’ furious disappointment, and the reference to Dolores Umbridge, produced a notable cooling effect on the room. Remus’ own mood darkened. He couldn’t hear that name without thinking of the innumerable laws of social injustice that had been signed off by her pink-inked quill.

 

The meeting continued on soberly. Snape gave a curt report of Harry’s occlumency lessons, but the qualifier “despite abysmal concentration and little natural aptitude” led to a fast rebuttal “or is it despite having a Death Eater-loving professor who probably gets a sick, sadistic satisfaction from making it as difficult as possible?” from Sirius. Sitting at opposite ends of the table seemed to make little difference to the old rivals’ ability to be at each other’s throats.

 

“Hestia” Said Remus, suddenly, when he saw Snape’s lip curl in advance of what would surely be the latest taunt to send Sirius into paroxysms. “What’s the latest news from the Irish border?”

 

Hestia launched into her report, with a valiant - if rather forced - joviality. Then came Sirius’ round-up of the plannable elements of the coming month: timings and partnerships for guard duty and stake-outs. Remus tried not to wince at how often he and Tonks’ names were put together. But as suspicious as it looked, Remus knew he didn’t possess the willpower to ask Sirius to change it. When Remus looked up from his tea and Sirius had stopped speaking, he found himself staring into Mad Eye’s eyes. Both of them. The magical one vibrated a little.

   
“Now for some bad news” Mad Eye said. “Dumbledore bade me share this with all of you. We’re being careful now, but not nearly careful enough. What I’m about to tell you should raise everyone’s guard tenfold. Lupin, this concerns you most of all” 

 

Remus felt the weight of every head in the room turning to look at him. He sat very still.

 

“Fenrir Greyback's back in the country” 

 

Mad Eye had always been known for never beating around the bush. It was one of the many things that Remus respected about him. But having that name spoken to him with no warning, with Tonks by his side, was like a flaying. The room reacted in gasps. Molly clapped her hand to her mouth; Arthur flung an arm around her instinctively. Sirius swore. That name to Remus was the emptying of his stomach as he gagged on the day he found out the truth; the weeping of his father, broken and begging for forgiveness; the fractured memory of being four years old in a bedroom that had blood running down its walls. Remus had the strangest sensation that everything was receding away from him; the kitchen was stretching and he was zooming out, they were all getting smaller. A tiny touch brought him back to himself. The slightest stroke of a finger against his finger, out of sight beneath the table. Tonks.

 

“Then Voldemort has recruited him again” Remus said, surprising himself at how steady his voice sounded. “Only the promise of that magnitude of protection would induce him to risk reentering the country”

 

“Will he…start attacking children on you-know-who’s orders?” Asked Molly, twisting the buttons of her cardigan with such vigour that one popped off without her noticing.

 

Remus thought for a moment.

 

“The Death Eaters seem to want to keep a low profile. Voldemort - ”

 

Half the room flinched. 

 

“ - doesn’t want more attention on them than he deems necessary. A spate of werewolf attacks would create mass-panic and the Ministry would have to act. My guess is that Greyback won’t be used as a weapon. Yet. But you should all be more vigilant. Especially at the full moon”

 

“I agree” Said Kingsley. “But why bring him over now? Why not wait until the moment they want to strike with an attack?”

 

Though he had no evidence, Remus thought he knew the answer to Kingsley’s question. He controlled his breathing and spoke:

 

“He may have been brought here to recruit”

 

There was real fear amongst the group now. An invisible shiver of it passed over the kitchen.

 

“A werewolf army” Said Bill, quietly.

 

There was a strange feeling of uncleanliness stealing over Remus.

 

“Let us hope not” He said. “But yes - I do believe that, like the giants, the Death Eaters want to claim werewolves to their cause. They must have convinced Greyback to work as their recruiter, to strengthen their numbers. I fear it may be easier than ever in this climate”

 

“So…who do you reckon he’ll approach first? Existing packs of werewolves? Who are the targets?” Asked Tonks.

 

Packs. Remus hated that word. He hated it even more when it came from Tonks’ mouth.

 

“Perhaps a little context would be useful. Though I should warn you all that my knowledge is woefully out of date. After the first war, Greyback and his inner circle of extremists fled the country. And it’s important to bear in mind that they’re regarded as a minority, as rogue elements, by the rest of the defined werewolf communities. These communities function as their own micro-societies - some attempting to live in peace and within the law, others surviving mainly by making money through illegal means, often on the muggle black market. They’re very small in number, tight knit and closed to outsiders. Many of them despise Greyback. They’re disgusted by his monstrous…by his…” Remus paused, words failing him. “…for his obsession with spreading the infection to dominate wizarding kind, and his willingness to ally himself with dark wizards to achieve that goal. Some would kill him if they got the chance - he bit most of them, after all. These established groups have their own leaders, their own rules - some even helped the Order in the first war when we made contact with them. All in all, they wouldn’t be the easiest targets for recruitment”

 

“So who would be?” Asked Emmeline.

 

Though Remus had spent time living amongst werewolves, it was many years ago and many hundreds of miles from Britain. He had never felt that he belonged with them. Now, the Order was looking at him as if he was an expert.

 

“The solitary ones” He said. “Those who live on the margins, without a community. Anyone who has fallen through the cracks. The recently infected, perhaps. Convincing them to join a group run by Greyback would take time: they’d need to be gradually persuaded of the ideology. But they will have lost everything. And that makes them most vulnerable. The law now is harsher than it was even before the first war. There’s no possibility of employment, no rights to property they may have previously owned, no support network - ”

 

“This _fucking_ government” Said Tonks.

 

She was staring at him, her eyes full of ire, but he wished she would stop. Her fingers still touched his beneath the table. Fearing the penetration of a magical eye, Remus pulled his hand up.

 

“What about that fellow who shared my ward at St Mungo’s?” Said Arthur. “Somewhere to start perhaps?”

 

Remus nodded slowly. He remembered the man, lying there listlessly as he’d tried his best to softly deliver advice on how to cope with the waxing, the waning….and the night itself. His eyes had been blank as he told Remus that he didn’t need any help. That his family would be coming for him soon.

 

“I can speak to him and deduce whether or not he’s been approached. I’d need a way to find him though”

 

“Now that registration is compulsory, the Ministry should have his address on file” Said Kingsley.

 

“Yeah! I can sneak into that office and get it” Said Tonks, leaning forward in her chair, knee bouncing slightly.

 

“No” Said Kingsley. “You’re too much in Scrimgeour’s bad books right now, Tonks. It’s not worth the risk. I’ll get it myself. I have a meeting with Scrimgeour this afternoon. It’s Saturday, the Beast Division will probably be empty”

 

The meeting concluded. Remus prayed he was imagining it, but as the room stood up and said their goodbyes, the Order seemed hesitant, even distant, in their farewells to him. If any of them hadn’t been previously aware that it was Greyback who had bitten him, they were probably now making the connection. There was an old prejudice - one of the many dubious myths surrounding werewolves - that the more brutal a werewolf was, the more brutal the curse they passed onto those they bit would be. It was a myth that Greyback himself delighted in propagating: he could inspire greater fear and division if people believed his victims were likely to develop his same taste for violence. The concept had tormented Remus as a young man when he had found out the truth of his bite. He wondered desperately what Tonks thought. Did she know? Had Sirius told her or had she found out some other way? Remus wished he could speak with her, even for a second, if only to gage just how unnerved she was by the conversation, but it was impossible to seek a private goodbye. She waved to him from the foot of stairs before she was swept up by the rest of the departing Order members. He despised beyond words that the final impression she was left with before they saw each other again was an association with Fenrir Greyback.

 

—————-

 

True to his word and his reputation for efficiency, Kingsley sent Remus the full name and address of the St Mungo’s werewolf that same day through the miniature portrait system. Remus decided to go immediately - there was no point waiting and he was keen to get something constructive out of the wretched day.

 

He apparated and found himself standing on a rocky lane amidst a vast and flat landscape. What looked like arable farmland stretched out as far as the hill-less horizon, upon which a muggle power plant belched out ruffles of smoke. A mattress lay on its side near where Remus stood. The only house in sight was grey and boxy, barely larger than Remus’ own cottage in Yorkshire. The walls of the house were beige and stained. Behind the one-storey bungalow sat a miniature version of itself, but this one had no windows. He knew simply by looking at the scene that no regular wizard would choose to live in such an exposed, desolate location. The man’s previous hope that his family would take care of him had evidently been in vain.

 

Remus approached the house slowly, his robes drifting over the patchy, scrubby grass as he walked. He took out his wand and swept the surroundings for spells: muggle repelling jinxes, a powerful but dormant shield charm but - crucially - no surveillance. Remus raised his fist to knock and for a second stood frozen, feeling a twinge of foreboding at what he was about to find inside. He had lived with his own curse for thirty one years. This man had lived with his barely more than three months. After a series of neat taps, he heard a shuffle from within, but it took a while for any answer to come.

 

“Who are you?” Came an unfriendly voice.

 

“You may remember me” Said Remus. “We met at St Mungo’s. On Christmas Day”

 

The door opened a crack, revealing a slice of an unshaven face and one bloodshot, hooded eye.  
 

“What do you want?”

 

“Simply to check on you” Said Remus, with a small smile that wasn’t returned. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal and I thought perhaps that, given we share the same condition, I may be able to offer a little help”

 

His host stared at him before speaking in a flat tone, without inflection or enthusiasm.

 

“Well. Come in. Why the hell not”

 

The door drifted open as Adrian Mason turned his back and retreated into the one-room house. As Remus crossed the threshold, he mouthed security charms with his wand pointed behind his back. If Death Eater-aligned werewolves were out for recruiting, he wasn’t taking any chances. Mason was no longer in the semi-catatonic state of shock he had encountered on Christmas Day, but his physical decline was obvious. He had a limp. His clothes were dirty and hung loose, as if he had shed several pounds since their original purchase. The room was messy: unvanished pieces of rubbish littered the surfaces, including empty cans of drink and crinkled newspapers, whilst a vaguely sticky, sweet smell hung in the close air. Mason sat down at a small table and took a deep gulp of white cider from a can.

 

“What did you say your name was?”

 

“William Tarn” Said Remus.

 

He noticed that Mason’s sleeve was damp; there was a small moist spot of blood at the wrist.

 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how is your bite wound? The healing process is a long road, I know”

 

“Healing process? What healing process?”

 

Mason pulled back his sleeve. The wound was raw. The teeth had left deep punctures in his flesh and they were arranged in an angry red ring around his forearm. He wore no bandage and the cuts were weepy, blackened at the core. It was a terrible sight and Remus’ stomach skipped; he had never seen a freshly infected bite wound on another person before. Though it looked completely different to his own - which had stretched large across his side as he himself had grown into adulthood - the way it made him feel in his gut as he looked at it was just the same.

 

“This is my fucking wand arm as well”

 

“It will get better” Said Remus, tearing his gaze away from it. “In time”

 

“Oh yeah? At the last full moon I managed to give the rest of me a good mangle too”

 

Remus reached into the pockets of his robes and drew out a series of objects, setting them on the table one by one.

 

“I wasn’t sure what support St Mungo’s might have offered you, so…I’ve brought you a few supplies. Some potions, tinctures and salves that I find helpful. I’ve been developing the precise formulations for years”

 

They were all from Remus’ dwindling personal supply. He explained each one and Mason nodded, wearing an impassive, almost embarrassed, look on his face. The oddness of the situation struck Remus anew. Why had he accepted him into his home so easily and with so little surprise? Was it loneliness? Boredom? It didn’t seem to be based in any particular desire for solidarity.

 

“Forgive me if this is a foolish question, but how has everything been since you were discharged from St Mungo’s?”

 

The answering glare confirmed that, yes, it was a foolish question. There was no response for a few minutes. Remus let the silence play out.

 

“Your friend. The one on the same ward as me. Said you found being a werewolf ‘quite easy to manage’”

 

“He did?” Said Remus, genuinely taken aback.

 

“Yeah. ‘Quite easy to manage’. Those were his words”

 

Remus held back a hard, bitter laugh. The impulse shamed him; he didn’t want to mock Arthur. But it was ludicrous, it was oblivious, it was…Did his new friends in the Order truly believe that? He was torn between alarm at their naivety and a strange feeling of pride. He’d hidden the truth well, if that was the case. But then came a horrible sliding feeling of cold unease - did Tonks believe that too? Had he inadvertently given her false comfort that his condition was far less dangerous or far less crippling than it really was?

 

“Not true is it?” Mason’s tone was accusatory.

 

Remus sighed. “I have no wish to sugarcoat reality. No, it is not true”

 

“Thought as much. Knew it as soon as the first pains came. So bad I wanted to die. Then everyday I’m just so goddamn tired…” He rubbed at his coarse cheeks, a grimace twisting his expression. “So…you want to know how everything’s been. I’ll give it to you in a nutshell. My wife put her wand on me, soon as I went back home. Told me her real husband was dead and I had to get the hell out. Our marriage got annulled. Did you know it was legal to choose to annul a marriage in the case of your partner becoming a werewolf halfbreed? ’Cause I didn’t. They don’t print that in the Daily Prophet, do they? She got all the money of course. My work couldn’t keep me on even if they’d wanted to - and they didn’t want to. That’s what I got after twenty-two years of graft. So the Ministry put me up in this hole. And I’ll never see my kids again”

 

When Remus had explained to the Order that the recently infected had lost everything, this was what he had meant. Sorrow, and not a little rage, swelled in him.

 

“I’m sorry”

 

His words were inadequate and he knew it.

 

“Don’t know why you’re apologising. Wasn’t you that bit me”

 

Though Remus did not ask for it, Mason relayed the story. He had been picking fluxweed in the woodlands near his family home. The werewolf - who, as it turned out, had broken loose from a deficient cage - had been stalking the forest. Then came the chase, the dropping of his wand in panic, the fall and the inevitable holding up of his arm to protect himself. Random, devastating, meaningless bad luck.

 

“Was there a trial?”

 

“There was going to be. But it wasn’t necessary in the end. He topped himself in his cell before it could get that far. I’ll spare you the gory details of how he managed it in Azkaban with no wand. Unless you want to hear them?”

 

Remus winced. More dangerous even than self-injury at the full moon, the biggest killer of werewolves was - and always had been - suicide.

 

“No”

 

“So he’s dead. And I’m here. What’s left of me”

 

Mason’s fingers twisted around the can in his hand, the metal crinkling under the pressure. Remus continued to listen silently.

 

“Couple of days after they moved me into this dive, before my first full moon, some team from the Registry came round for an inspection. They came poking around like they owned the place - which of course they fucking do”

 

Remus nodded. He himself remembered his own visit from the Registry team, after Rita Skeeter printed what he was for the whole public to read. They wouldn’t accept so much as a glass of water from him. The contempt with which they recoiled from his offered handshake had haunted him for weeks afterwards.

 

“They might as well have spat at my feet, that’s how obvious it was just how much they hated me. One guy I swear kept looking at my wand. Like he wanted to confiscate it. Maybe that’s what they’ll come for next”

 

Mason’s voice had risen, he was almost shouting now.

 

“I could give him a bite, see how he feels about werewolves then”

 

The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Remus, unconscious of what he was doing, found himself on his feet.

“Don’t - ”

 

“Oh come on, don’t look at me like that!” Mason shouted up at him. “You’re the same as me! You can’t seriously tell me that you don’t sometimes feel the same”

 

“I don’t” Said Remus. “And you shouldn’t”

 

“That’s easy for you to say. That’s _fucking_ easy for you to say. You’ve got friends so you can afford to take the moral high ground, can’t you? And I bet your friends think they’re oh-so-noble for having you around. They looked like that type - a bunch of liberal minded do-gooders - but what have they ever actually _done_ for our kind? ‘Easy to manage’, eh?”

 

Remus forced his temper down. Though seeing lycanthropy as a weapon was something that revolted his whole being, he had to calm down. Irresponsible words spoken in the depths of despair, as much as they horrified Remus, did not make a descent into violence unpreventable. An angry response would only push Mason further down that road. And Remus still needed the information he came for.

 

“You don’t know them. And you don’t know me” He said, but his tone was softer now.

 

He sat slowly back down. Mason eyed him warily, before pulling a cigarette from his back pocket and lighting it with his wand, holding it jealously close.

 

“You’re right. I don’t” He said, smoke billowing between his teeth. “Yet here you are in my house. So... get it over with”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Give me your best speech. Go on. What is it you want from me?”

 

“I don’t want anything from you”

 

“Oh yeah? You sure you’re not here to enlist me? Like the others?”

 

“The others?” The pace of Remus’ heart quickened, but his face barely moved: he knew that pressing the subject too much could spook him.

 

“Yeah. They didn’t bring healing stuff though. A couple of galleons was more their style. Scary looking guys, they were. Not like you. I didn’t want to let them in at first, but they were forceful. I didn’t like that but then…they started to talk a lot of sense”

 

Remus said nothing.

 

“They said the transformation box out in the back garden was bullshit. They said werewolves shouldn’t transform alone and that if I spent full moon with my own kind I wouldn’t attack myself. Is that true?”

 

“Having company can help” Said Remus shortly, knowing that an outright lie could breed mistrust but not wishing to lend deeper credence to their persuasion tactics. “What else did they tell you?”

 

“That” - and now he was looking energised in a way that Remus didn’t like - “Wizarding Society wants to make werewolves as weak as possible because it benefits them. They want to be the ruling class - culturally, economically, magically. Deep down, the Ministry knows that we’re stronger than wizards. That’s what _really_ scares them”

 

“I agree that the Ministry is scared. I agree that they want to oppress us. But I don’t agree that we werewolves should see ourselves as stronger than any other being”

 

“But you can’t deny that we deserve better lives? That’s what they’re offering”

 

“How exactly?”

 

“They want us to band together. Form something new. Under the radar. They say they’ve got money to build a proper colony where the Ministry can’t reach us. No more ripping myself to shreds every month, no more scraping by, no more sitting alone in this pathetic excuse for a house. I’d get my dignity back. That’s what they said”

 

“They’re painting a picture of some kind of werewolf utopia. But it’s a lie. They’ll use you for their own ends and those ends will be violent. It’s not a life you want”

 

“No life could be worse than the one I’m currently stuck with! How do you know anyway? Why should I believe anything you say?” Mason’s pointed his cigarette towards Remus as he spoke. “You swan in here, you don’t tell me anything about who you are or where you’ve come from. How do I know that name you gave me’s not fake? You’ve got friends who tolerate you - you’re not alone like me. What have I got? What if this is my only option?”

 

Remus leant forward slightly, fixing his gaze. “It is not your only option. They make grand claims, but don’t be deceived. The truths they give you are designed to lure you in. The werewolves you speak of believe in multiplying themselves and committing murder in order to get their own way. I assume you’ve heard of Fenrir Greyback? He is their leader”

 

The mention of this name, the famous nightmare, had the effect Remus hoped it would.

 

“No!” Mason cried, indignant. “No. They didn’t mention _him_! They just want to build better, stronger lives for werewolves, they’re not…. _cannibal freaks_ ”

 

“He is their leader” Said Remus. “He is the one pulling the strings behind all this. He wants blood-soaked retribution; for the spread of the curse to lead to revolution. Werewolves like you are fodder to build numbers. His real target is children. You’ve heard the stories, you know what he is”

 

Mason’s cigarette had gone out, but he hadn’t noticed. Worry was etched onto his features now. It made his face sag.

 

“There’s no panacea. There’s no easy way to improve your life” Remus continued. “There’s only patience. I can’t give you false promises but I believe that there will come a time when things will be better for us”

 

It was all Remus had to give him - and he knew it was intangible and unappealing when compared to the ego-stroking lies of Greyback’s lackeys. They sat without speaking in the lonely house. Mason was staring at the floor, head resting on one hand. His eyes looked more bloodshot than before.

 

“You know” He began, voice a little croaky. “I didn’t used to be the kind of person who would shout at their guests. ’Specially not ones who bring gifts for no reason other than to help”

 

“It’s alright”

 

“I’ve never been a violent person” “I believe you”

 

“I just wish I’d never gone out into that fucking forest at the full moon”

 

“I know”

 

Mason raised his head.

 

“When did you get bitten?”

 

“When I was a very young child”

 

“Do you even remember what it’s like? To not be a werewolf?”

 

“Barely”

 

Mason’s expression was a cross between pity and envy.

 

“It’s like an invasion” He said. “It’s like…I’m still myself but there’s something there. Watching. Sometimes the presence is so faint I hardly notice it, but sometimes…”

 

“Yes” Remus whispered.

 

“When they came, they told me that it wasn’t an invasion. It was a strengthening. And all the pain that comes with it is simply a marker of how powerful it is - and, therefore, how powerful it makes me. Makes us”

 

Mason was looking at Remus appealingly, almost desperately, not wanting his final thread of faith that the condition could bring him some new, formidable gift to be cut.

 

“It can never be a strength” Remus said, gently. “Except in as much as you are able to develop the personal fortitude to keep going and to not let it weaken the best parts of you”

 

Suddenly, words that James had once spoken to him, aged twelve after Remus had confided some of what it felt like to him, played in his mind. They were words that, though he never managed to truly believe them, he had cherished nonetheless: _You deal with that every day? Bloody hell! I reckon that makes you ten times the Gryffindor of anyone else in this tower_. How he missed James Potter.

 

“Here. Take this. Get rid of it for me. I don’t want it”

 

Out of his pocket, Mason had pulled a silvery white piece of card and thrown it across the table to Remus. When he touched it, writing appeared. Apparition coordinates and, beneath them, the line: _Dignity under the sun, power under the moon_. Remus felt certain that only the touch of a werewolf could unlock the text. Clever magic. He slipped it into his robe pocket. As soon as he got the opportunity, he would send it securely to Dumbledore to examine.

 

“It’s the right decision” Said Remus.

 

After a few more minutes of talk, Remus felt himself in danger of over-staying his welcome. He bade Mason goodbye, with as much warmth as he could muster and the promise to come again. He left no contact details, nor any clue as to when exactly his next visit would be - it was too risky. But he would keep posting supplies. The man may never be a true ally to the Order, but he was no lost cause. Before he left, Remus looked back over his shoulder: Mason sat, still holding his cold cigarette and staring at the wall, pulling his shabby clothes closer about him to keep out the chill.

 

Remus didn't apparate immediately, but began walking down the dark lane away from the house. A light rain dampened his clothes and fell like mist onto his face and hair, but he kept going. He needed to organise his thoughts. He’d spent so much time with normal witches and wizards that he had let himself forget just how much he wasn’t like them. Today was the reminder he needed. Too often he indulged himself in imaginings of what life could have been if he’d never received his bite: no scars, no transformations, no ever-watchful presence of evil. A glorious, alternate life. A life he could live with Tonks. But it was just as much of a lie as the ones being sold to Mason. Remus was a werewolf. And Tonks would leave him.

 

If what they were fighting for came to pass, she would have a long and vibrant life: the sparkling career in the Auror department that she deserved; a group of friends who bonded over music concerts and holidays not duelling and stake-outs; a relationship with someone whose living arrangements didn’t require a cage in the back garden. Tonks would look back at whatever they had as a strange blip in the course of her romantic life. A liaison which, however much she may have enjoyed certain parts of it at the time, might confuse and shame her when she looked back as an older woman - when she had a partner she could be proud of. This faceless man haunted Remus. He pictured him as some sort of impressive combination of Bill Weasley’s easy cool, Sirius’ swagger and an athletic Auror who probably played drums in his spare time. A far cry from a disgraced werewolf professor.

 

The seeds of the end to he and Tonks’ affair were everywhere. Already it was becoming harder and harder for them to find time to see each other and the risk that their comrades would discover what they were doing behind closed doors was heightening with every new week. The closer he and Tonks got, the sheen of newness that excited her would fade; her desire for him would wane; she’d come to notice that without the Order he had nothing. He knew that one day memory would be all he had left of her.

 

But he was unable to do anything except wait. Just as his claws dug and tore into his own skin once a month, so too did he continue to be her lover. Every day made the inevitable separation more agonising.

 

A weighty muggle vehicle barrelled past him, rattling the hedges on either side and sending puddle water soaking through the tiny holes in his shoes. The chill of the night deepened. A fox cried somewhere in the fields. Remus needed a drink.

 

Back in Islington, the house was dark. His only greeting was from Kreacher (“…werewolf comes skulking back, what he’s been doing Kreacher doesn’t know, wicked halfbreed acts…oh my poor Mistress…”) and, though Remus usually always forced a smile and said hello to the elf, he couldn't face it tonight. He went down to the kitchen, but no light shone from beneath the door. Sirius must have gone to bed. He berated himself for his self-contradiction: he didn’t want company, he didn’t want any acknowledgement of his birthday and that meant that the sinking disappointment and longing he felt wasn’t only foolish, it was piteous.

 

He pushed open the door.

 

“Surprise!” Yelled Tonks, so loudly that he jumped, almost hitting his head on the door.

 

She flung out her arms and beer frothed up out of the bottle she was holding and bubbled down her wrist. Colourful sparks leapt from the wand she held in her other hand. She and Sirius were standing behind the dining table, lit only by the thin glow of three long bendy candles that were perched on top of a lumpy chocolate cake.

 

“We know you hate fuss, but we thought fuck it, let’s embarrass him anyway!” She said. “We’ve been waiting ages”

 

“Happy birthday, Moony” Said Sirius, smirking and handing him a beer. 

 

He almost dropped the bottle. The corners of his eyes burned. He couldn’t speak and the pause in which they waited for his reaction lasted longer than was natural. Tonks looked radiant, her violet hair was arranged in busy curls that haloed her face, and her smile didn’t falter. Sirius cocked his head to one side.

 

“I didn’t expect this” Remus managed to say, unsticking his throat. “Thank you”

 

“It’s no trouble, mate” Said Sirius, laughing at him. “It’s not a proper party or anything. It’s just us” 

 

Remus nodded. Words jumbled in his head and none seemed quite able to make the journey down to his mouth.

 

“Well that’s…all I need” 

 

Tonks moved around the table, bashing her hip on its edge in the process, and kissed him hard on the cheek. Remus blushed immediately, unused to displays of affection in the presence of others, but Sirius just smiled and raised his bottle in a toast to them both. The two of them filled his heart with gratitude, he wanted to soak them both up: for the evening to be preserved in amber. The music was turned up to a thumping level, exactly how the two of them liked it, and he felt himself falling back into the dreamy surreality of happiness. They asked him about his meeting, but he brushed it off; told them he’d save the story for another day. So they drank and ate cake and talked about nothing. He didn’t want to remember the cold, forsaken house of Mason. Not when Tonks was dancing. Not when Sirius was smiling again.

 

An hour in, and swaying slightly, Tonks pulled a clunky wizard camera out of her back pocket.

 

“Don’t even think about it”

 

“Oh come _on_. Sirius your hair is too luscious not to capture for posterity! I’m not going to show it to anyone. I’ll be careful with it, I swear”  

 

“Get in, Padfoot” Said Remus, pushing Sirius towards Tonks and removing the camera from her hand.

 

He raised it and waved for them to get closer.

 

“For flip’s sake! You’re as bad as each other”

 

Tonks laughed, dragging Remus towards them by the collar and clamping her arm tightly around his waist. Sirius snatched the camera out of his hands, held it away from them and clicked the shutter. So Remus was fixed in place between them, with no time to prepare and no idea how he looked. But somehow everything felt okay. He knew it was weak, he knew it was masochistic, he knew it was _doomed_ but he let himself forget the faceless man waiting for Tonks; the silvery white card in his pocket; and, almost, the scar on his waist. And when, hours later, alone with her in his room she pushed him down onto the bed, he forgot his own name.


	19. Seeing Through Smoke

**Chapter 18: Seeing Through Smoke**

 

“Cheer up, love - it might never happen!” 

 

Tonks briefly flirted with the possibility of contradicting her moral principles by jinxing a muggle, but decided against both it and the fiery retort (“You what, mate?”) ready on her lips to simply side-step the smirking man, who was now eyeing her billowing robes with amusement. Bad news weighed in her stomach like too much mashed potato. April showers had strewn the uneven pavement with a minefield of puddles. Every boot stomp sent water exploding into flying droplets; splashes reflecting the orange and blue of the streetlights and sirens all around, soaking Tonks’ hem. On turning the corner to Grimmauld Place, the noisy assault of the main road quietened but it made no dent to Tonks’ level of stress. She had to see Remus. And it had to be tonight.

 

Her expedition-ready black robes and cloak were fastened tight beneath the chin. On her back she wore a pack stuffed with six weeks’ worth of kit. Her hair was shorn to barely a centimetre around the back and sides, but crowned with a diminutive cerise mohawk. She chewed her lip. Watchful and fat in the night sky was the moon. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have assumed it was full. It wasn’t, quite - but there were just twenty hours to go. She was about to break Remus’ rule. The subtly spoken of, but keenly guarded, buffer zone around his transformation. Going to see him tonight with no warning felt like a transgression, but she had no choice. And - Tonks buoyed herself with a rebellious flash of determination as she plowed on towards the house - surely it was high time for those walls to come down anyway. She wanted to be there for him. And he had to get used to that.  

 

Inside, Tonks took the staircase two at a time - with a brief spread-eagled interlude after one foot didn’t quite keep time with the other. Remus’ bedroom was empty. Tonks swore. _Please don’t be out on guard duty_ , she begged the universe as she clattered back down again. The kitchen was empty. Panting, Tonks returned to the main hallway and was about to risk the wrath of Walburga Black and yell out when she noticed the library door. It was ajar, a warm flickering light behind.

 

That was where she found him. Sound asleep in a battered chintz chair with his body curved forward onto the antique writing desk and head resting on a pillow of parchment. One hand dangled down and, on the floor directly beneath it, lay a feather quill that must have dropped from his limp fingers. His eyelashes flickered. They were the only part of him not still and peaceful; his eyelids concealing rapid movements. Tonks stroked his shoulder, whispered as quietly as she could.

 

“Funny place for a nap.”

 

Remus jumped and raised his head with a jerk, causing the chair beneath him to wobble on its brittle legs and some of the papers to waft through the air. With a small laugh, Tonks plucked away a piece of parchment sticking to the left side of his face. It left a tiny smudge of ink on his cheekbone. 

 

“Tonks, er, good evening.” 

 

“Wotcher, Remus. Sorry to startle you.”

 

Colour flooded his previously bloodless cheeks as Remus shuffled the parchment, trying to neaten them into a stack. He straightened his posture, blinked his face into order, tried to smooth his hair. Tonks felt an affectionate exasperation that had become so familiar to her - didn’t he know she could see right through his layers of sensible restraint? And - more importantly - didn’t he know that he didn’t have to put them on in the first place?

 

“What brings you to Headquarters?” He rasped. “News from the Ministry?” 

 

“I came to see you actually.” 

 

A groove deepened between his eyebrows.

 

“I know it’s full moon tomorrow night,” Tonks said quickly. “But I - well - there’s something I have to tell you. Um, let’s sit down.”

 

She slipped her rucksack off her back and let it fall to the floor with a crunch, before flopping onto the sofa. It wheezed dustily, as if letting out a long breath. Remus shut the door and lingered there, almost as if he didn’t want to take a step towards her. Tonks flapped her hands, beckoning him anxiously.

 

“Come sit!”

 

Remus sat slowly down on the edge of the sofa furthest from where she herself sat and clasped his hands in his lap. Tonks felt a pang: he didn’t look well at all. 

 

“Is there something you wished to speak to me about?”

 

His tone was polite and controlled, matching the stiff way he held himself. Tonks blew up her cheeks, folded her legs beneath her, and sighed. Telling him would make it real. When Remus looked at her it was with effort and his eyes seemed rounder than usual. She realised suddenly, to her shame, that she was freaking him out. He could tell she had bad news and wanted to be put out of his misery.

 

“Sorry - I should just spit it out! _I’m leaving_. Basically, I have to - ”

 

“I understand,” Remus said. 

 

His face was so composed it was almost unnatural, but the words themselves sounded strangled, forced out. 

 

 “Of course you must.”

 

Tonks gaped at him.

 

“What?” She said. “Did Kingsley tell you already? That was fast.”

 

“Kingsley?” Said Remus, still sounding odd.

 

“Yeah, Kingsley - he was at the same meeting as me when it got decided.”

 

“When it…? Oh, I....I should have let you finish, Tonks. Excuse me - I must be getting muddled.” 

 

“That’s what happens when a person takes impromptu kips on the furniture.” 

 

Tonks scooched closer to him.

 

“It’s an intensive search mission,” she went on. “Six weeks of it. Part of the department’s shiny new strategy - handpick a team of Aurors and send them off to crawl the country. Stalking and tracking during the night, sleeping out in the wild during the day. We’re ‘sposed to tread every corner of the British Isles, super focused, no breaking ranks, no outside contact except with Scrimgeour and his central team to request back up. And guess who got picked for the first go? Apparently the usefulness of having a metamorphmagus on board outweighs said metamorphmagus being a security risk by blood. Consistency’s really not one of the department’s strong suits”

 

“Well...” Remus looked down at his hands, then at the bookcases. “As far as Ministry schemes go, this is perhaps one of their least idiotic. When do you leave?”

 

Tonks grimaced. 

 

“Five in the morning. It’s what we all signed up for, I guess. The Ministry tells us to jump and we, well, we don’t even ask how high - we just blooming do it!” 

 

“It’s your duty. I completely understand.”

 

Tonks snaked her arms around Remus’ waist, leaning into him, her face burrowing into the rumpled material where his shoulder met his neck. The sigh he let out when she hugged him was too quiet to hear, but Tonks felt it in the compression of his lungs, the air that skimmed the shorn and sensitive side of her head. She could feel his heart racing.  

 

“Sorry for the crap news.” 

 

She lifted her head and brushed hair back from his forehead, feeling a sentimental affection for every fine line; each and every strand that was alight with bright silver. She kissed him above the eyebrow.

 

“I wish I could stay with you, believe me.” 

 

“You don’t have to say that.” 

 

“It’s true, you numpty! Soon as I could, I legged it out of there so we could have a bit of time together. I’m not just going to flit away off around the country and forget about you. You know that right?” 

 

Remus looked again at his clasped hands.

 

_Tell him how you really feel_. 

 

The words in her head were like a poke in the belly. How else to banish the doubt that bobbed invisibly in the air between them during the awkward silence in which Remus didn’t give the answer to her question that he should? But she couldn’t do it. She knew she’d fluff it up: she’d be clumsy, phrase it all wrong. And she hadn’t forgotten Sirius’ warning: _go gently with him, Tonks_. So she took refuge yet again in physical expression; so much easier than the scary, tangled mess that came with words. She stroked her hand around the back of his head and drew him towards her, kissing him instead of speaking so his silence no longer mattered. It was as sweet as ever. 

 

“Forgive me,” said Remus. 

 

Their lips had parted, but their faces still stayed close, browbone against browbone.

 

“I’m a little morose today. You rather took me by surprise.” 

 

“I seem to have a habit of doing that. It’s alright. I’m morose too. The thought of spending six weeks with my darling colleagues has that effect.” 

 

“Who will you be travelling with?” 

 

“Not Dawlish, thank Merlin - I’d probably end up garrotting him with my shoelaces by the end of the first week. Duffie is the Senior Auror on the job. He’s boring as sin though. Some kid in Auror College is coming along to help earn their stripes for graduation. Finlay Savage too. He’s the same level as me. We were great mates in college...not so much now though. All in all, it’s yours truly and a bunch of blokes.”

 

Remus looked a little green. Tonks bashed a fist on the faded velvet of the sofa.

 

“The whole thing’s pointless! The Order’s gonna lose me from the roster because I’ll be fannying around on a search mission that’s never going to succeed. The Death Eaters are too smart. I doubt we’ll even see any action at all - as much as I’d enjoy having a second crack at bringing Bellatrix in.” 

 

“Tonks,” Remus fixed her gaze, suddenly alert. “Please be careful.”

 

“I’ll try not to die,” she said. 

 

“Tonks - ”

 

“Bad joke, I know, I know. But even you have to admit that being careful and hunting dark wizards don’t go together so well. I’ll try not to be reckless, if that’s what you mean. But you - ” she nudged him, “ - have to try not to worry so much.”

 

“Not worrying and me don’t go together so well either.” 

 

Tonks bumped her forehead against his, then kissed the corner of the small smile that she’d coaxed out of him. Then his hands were on her waist and he was opening her mouth with his. There was oblivion in the soft urgency of it and the prospect of their separation started to drip away, she only wanted to succumb to the enveloping micro-world of just the two of them. It was hard to believe there was anything else; especially not something stirring inside Remus, a wolf preparing to emerge. All she could feel was the man. How could the blood that pulsed in his veins - swelling his lips as the kisses became more ardent, surging below his waist as her legs parted and she slipped onto his lap - be cursed? It was only that there was a tremble, an unintentional flinch to the body she pressed against, breathing that was heavier and deeper than usual. She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands.  
 

“Are you alright? To do this?”

 

“Tonight is all there is.”

 

“Until I - ”

 

But Remus kissed her like it was his last night alive. The ache of her desire became an exhilarating agony and she returned all his eagerness tenfold. Remus squeezed her in his arms. The tightness of the compression made her gasp but the squashing sensation only intensified, covering her whole body, filling her ears with the whooshing of air. When it stopped, Tonks tipped away onto her back, bouncing with a feeling of weightlessness onto Remus’ bed. She laughed and stretched her arms above her head, relishing being in one of her favourite places on earth.

 

He bent over her, his lips brushing the small part of her neck that was exposed, and his hands - wobbling a little - stumbled at the robe clasps. Tonks found his wand where it lay on the bed beside them. She whispered a spell and the clothes shot off her body, stripping her completely. Robes, trousers, socks, underwear - every scrap flew off and hit the opposite wall. Remus’ eyes were full of wonder as he looked down at her, so suddenly naked and bare in his arms, every inch of her exposed. It was a liberation to be looked at like that; she felt beautiful. Then he was touching her and Tonks’ eyes rolled back into her head, unable to do anything but moan and twitch in pleasure. She arched her back when he made her come; a firework show of pulsing sensation born from the deftness, the well-practised precision of fingers and tongue. 

 

Breathless, she was tugging him now: entreating him to take her, wanting a roughness that he’d hitherto resisted, but he laid her down with deliberate slowness and she remembered: he wasn’t feeling well. He turned her gently so they were side-by-side in a spoon shape. He kissed the soft, close-shorn hair at her skull, stroked her hard nipples and she gasped in anticipation. She felt his clothes vanish at last and there it was: a rock-like stiffness that dug into her back and belied his physical condition. He didn’t need to ask if she wanted it, she was already guiding him inside her. Goosebumps spread across the full surface of her body at the slow, tantalising penetration, the angle making her moan until his whole length was buried. 

 

The sex was all that it should be: a celebration of what they were. Remus didn’t rush. It was slow. She found his hand, warm and moist, and laced her fingers through his. The feeling built and built, pleasure rushing to a centre deep within her, and still the thrusts were unhurried and steady. Only when Tonks was crying out, almost tearing at the pillow with her teeth, did he grip her hips and start to slam her back against him. The intensity of the friction gathered along with the speed until he, as he always did, muffled the sound of his own climax. He buried his face in the nape of her neck as she felt him jerk and spasm inside her. 

 

Afterwards, they didn’t move. No sound from him, just ragged breath against her skin. They spent a minute in silence, Tonks savouring the tingle in her toes.

 

“Well, as goodbyes go, that was a corker,” she said, her throat a little dry, emotion making her eyes dewy.

 

She swivelled in his arms to face him and tugged the covers over them. A cocoon. 

 

“Something to look back on,” said Remus.

 

“You’re talking like I’m going away forever! That’s not allowed.”

 

Remus turned his face slightly into the pillow, closing his eyes. He looked suddenly more unwell than he had all evening. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He nodded but said, “I think in my eagerness to bid you a memorable farewell I may have exhausted myself completely.”

 

Tonks gave a sad sort of giggle. She stroked his hair. 

 

“It’s just six weeks,” she whispered. “It’ll fly by.”

 

_Tell him how you really feel._

 

The words were louder than before, spurred by the opportuneness of the moment. 

 

“Listen, I want to tell you something.”

 

She’d spoken in a burst, without thinking first, and now she paused. She could feel her heart twanging behind her ribs. She was about to say something she’d never said before. But Remus didn’t stir.

 

“Remus?”

 

Gone. Even when Tonks shook him by the shoulder and ruffled his hair, he stayed unresponsive. The deep, desperate sleep that claimed him sometimes had won. 

 

—— 

 

Tonks plunged her hands into the bucket, cursing her bad luck. She was a qualified Auror, for goodness sake - this just wasn’t dignified. The freshwater plimpies were slippery, evading her grasping hands. Tonks’ long black hair dangled in the water and the plimpies’ wet little mouths gaped, trying to sup on her split ends. She had to put them all in her rucksack. Something bad would happen if she didn’t. Sirius and Scrimgeour stood nearby, barely paying attention, their clipboards floating unused in front of them. Sirius puffed on a pipe and a perfect, crimson figure-of-eight floated towards her. How typical. Tonks’ rucksack rumbled as the transplanted plimpies wriggled around in its depths. When she looked up, Scrimgeour had gone: it was only Sirius left, strutting around heavily in a Hogwarts suit of armour, swinging a sword into the side of a tree. There were an awful lot of trees. The rumbling noise was getting louder. Tonks stood and started running, but her legs kept getting tangled in thick brambles. She tried to tear the prickles away from her clothes but her hands wouldn’t stop morphing, fingers shrinking to thumbs, nails lengthening to claws, palms swelling. Something was coming. There were strange noises all around her - gasps and moans in the branches, heavy breathing near her ear. The ground she was standing on - or lying on, she wasn't sure - was moving, undulating beneath her. Her eyelids flickered. Bedroom ceiling. Dark forest. Bedroom ceiling. Dark forest. Then something jabbed her; a quick, sharp pain in the ribs.

 

“Ow!” 

 

A massive thud sent ricochets through the aged floorboards beneath the bed. The duvet was dragged off Tonks’ body, disappearing before she could tug it back. Tonks eased herself up on her elbows, her dream trickling out of memory, groggy from top to bottom. The space beside her was empty. She peered over the side, blinking sleep from her eyes. Remus was on the floor. He appeared to have fallen down into the gap between the bed and the wall. In the shadows, she could see him thrashing, wrestling with the sheets. His breathing was guttural, tendons raised in stark rivets as he rolled his neck from side to side. She tumbled down to join him in alarm.

 

“Remus, wake up!”

 

She took hold of his wrists as gently as she could, but he was strong. He wrenched them out of her grasp, his chest heaving.  

 

“Remus, it’s me! You’ve got to wake up.”

 

His eyes flicked open, but they were fearful and unseeing, moving in circles. Tonks tapped him on the face and Remus blinked hard, seeing her finally.

 

“What have I done? What happened?” 

 

He pushed himself up to sitting, the sheet bunching and tightening around his waist.

 

“A nightmare. You fell off the bed. It was…it looked bad. Are you alright?”

 

“Did I hurt you?”

 

Tonks had never seen Remus close to panic before.

 

“Of course not. I’m totally fine. I just woke up and found you down here. But are you okay?” 

 

He was shivering, though the room was warm.  

 

“I’m so sorry.” 

 

“Don’t say sorry. I’m just worried about you.” 

 

Tonks rubbed his shoulders. They were slick with cold sweat. 

 

“Are you sure? Are you sure that I didn’t…I felt…something…an impact?”

 

“You were thrashing around in your sleep. There might have been some minor elbow, er, poking action.”

 

_“What?”_

 

“It was nothing! It was just when you were flailing around in your nightmare. It won’t even bruise.” 

 

“I dreamed of...”

 

He shook his head and didn’t complete his sentence. 

 

“Hey, it doesn’t matter now…” she said. 

 

Tonks wanted to hold him, to put their bare skin together, to talk to him until he felt better again but Remus edged backwards. It was a small movement, but Tonks knew what it was. A recoil.

 

“Can I summon you anything? Water? Or a sleeping draught?”

 

“No. Please. I don’t need anything…I should have slept in one of the spare rooms. We shouldn’t have shared a bed so close to the full moon. It’s not right.”

 

“It’s absolutely fine.”

 

“It’s not right. I’ll go to another room.”

 

“Don’t you dare.”

 

“Tonks, this isn’t something you should have to deal with.”

 

He wasn’t looking at her. His head was bent, covered partly by one hand. There was a tiny line of silver moonlight on the carpet, escaping through the bottom of the heavy curtains.

 

“It’s just a silly bad dream.”

 

“No. It’s not. The moon’s coming.”

 

“And you’ll be safely locked down in the basement when it does. But right now the best place for you is back in your own bed. Next to me.”

 

Remus didn’t move. 

 

“I’m not afraid of you, Remus.”

 

“That’s because you’re not afraid of anything.”

 

The words were shot back at her, spoken in a quick, bitter tone that sounded little like the Remus she knew. They were not intended as a compliment. They stung. She stared but he added nothing, just pulled the sheets higher to cover his scar, in the corner with his head turned to the wall. A trumpet call sounded, making them both jump. Four forty five. Tonks’ wake up call. 

 

“Problem solved,” she said coldly.

 

She got up from the floor and marched to the bathroom. She could have just performed a hygiene spell, got dressed and apparated immediately to the meeting point but Tonks wanted to feel the pound of hot water. She ducked her head so the shower fell like white noise over her ears. When she felt calmer, she shuffled out again, waving her wand around her head with a drying spell. She looked at herself in the mirror. There were vague purplish pouches of tiredness beneath her eyes. She screwed up her face and morphed them away. Just below her left breast, on a rib, was a tiny sickle-shaped bruise. Tonks morphed that too: changing the skin colour to camouflage with the rest, making it invisible.

 

Putting on a towel, she returned gingerly to the bedroom. She half-expected to find Remus still hunched in the corner of the room, but he was standing and fully-dressed. The room was lit with candles. Her rucksack had been summoned from the library and it sat, neatly fastened, on the bed. Beside it, her expedition clothes lay folded and smoothed. When she touched them, she found that they were warm from an ironing charm. The comforting smell of coffee came floating up from the mug that Remus passed to her. She tried a conciliatory smile, but the growing moon, the cross words they’d exchanged and the looming fact of their imminent separation were all over his face: he was wan, remorseful, devastated. Barely any time had passed since their bodies had intertwined on the very bed beside them and now here they were: Tonks biting her lip, Remus looking down at the floor. 

 

“Tonks, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

 

“It’s alright.”

 

“I’m far from my best at this point of the lunar cycle. A meagre excuse, I know. I never wanted you to experience anything like that.” 

 

“You’re not used to having me round so close to the full moon, I get it. You only spoke like that because you had a bad shock from the nightmare. It’s understandable. Really.”

 

Tonks found her pants in amongst the neat pile on the bed and let her towel fall to the floor. Remus angled his body away, removing her naked form from his eye-line. 

 

“You don’t have to look away,” Tonks said, unable to keep a note of irritation out of her voice. “You don’t have to get all sensible as soon as you get the chance.” 

 

Tonks snatched up her sports bra, putting it on with a twang of material, before her spring layers, a hoodie and, after much hopping on the spot, trousers. She downed the cup of coffee. 

 

“I know you, remember?” She burst out. “There’s no need to be so cautious! I’ve seen the wilder side of you, haven’t I? Last night and all the other nights?”

 

“The…wilder side of me?”

 

Tonks winced. Why did the wrong words always find her?

 

“I didn’t mean…What I meant was… _don’t push me away_. You can be yourself with me. Like I am with you.”

 

“But my self isn’t worth much, Tonks,” he said. “Whereas your self is wonderful.” 

 

His smile was so sad that Tonks couldn’t take it. Her annoyance died. She banged her empty cup down on his desk and hugged him. Her face met the inlet just below his throat and she breathed his smell. Everything would be alright, she told herself. Six weeks apart was nothing. A brief intermission between everything they’d shared together so far and a future that felt as bright and wide as a summer sky. 

 

“It will be proper summer when I’m back,” said Tonks, speaking fast, aware that the seconds they had left together were dropping away. “So let’s make some real plans. We can visit the Scally Wizzbee again - those waves will look gorgeous on a sunny day. And maybe I’ll take you round the East End markets - show you where Nana Tonks’ stall used to be. I guess we’d have to be in disguise, but that doesn’t matter…. And you can take me up to Yorkshire! Show me the Moors.” 

 

“If that’s what you want when you come back, then that’s what we’ll do.” 

 

Remus kissed her forehead. Tonk closed her eyes. 

 

_Tell him how you really feel._  

 

Remus was wrong about her not being afraid of anything. But even if she hadn’t bottled it, the lump in her throat was too big to let her speak anyway. They broke apart. Tonks picked up her gear. When the final moment came, she stopped in the doorway, but neither of them said the word: goodbye. 

 

——————

 

The Isle of Man seemed not to have got the message that summer was only round the corner. Tonks stared out at the rain. It cascaded in a wall over the mouth of the cave, as if being poured from one hundred buckets all at once. Every now and then, when the clouds parted enough to let the moonlight through, the water was illuminated in shocking silver. The Aurors were sat in a circle, clustered around a campfire. Woodsmoke curled up and was charmed into nothingness when it hit the camouflaging security wall. The air of the cave was close and heavy, a combination of mud, food and smoke smell. 

 

“Why on earth didn’t we just conjure magical flames? It stinks in here!”

 

Duffie narrowed his eyes at Tamar - the Auror trainee - who shrugged, a little embarrassed.

 

“What can I say - I prefer the real thing, I suppose.” 

 

“Classic muggleborn.” 

 

Duffie shook his head over his tin of fish and chips. His recent promotion to Senior Auror meant he had been hard at work developing his own brand of snide authority. Tamar, the most junior of the group, had been appointed unofficial assistant: whatever was deemed to be menial charmwork was allocated to him. Tonks had no problem with this - after all, she’d received the same treatment back in her training days - but Tamar had already become a target for mockery in a way that didn’t sit quite right with her. 

 

“I agree, mate.” She winked at Tamar, who smiled gratefully back. “It’s much more atmospheric like this.”

 

One day down. An unthinkable number to go. Tonks pulled out her food-summoner, her favourite bit of Auror department kit. She tapped it with her wand and a pile of hot spaghetti carbonara appeared in it. She had to exorcise considerable willpower to plunge her fork - and not simply her entire face - into it.

 

“I can’t believe they’ve actually ousted Dumbledore,” said Tamar. “Although…I heard it didn’t quite go to plan…is that true? Bit embarrassing for Dawlish and Kingsley, right? Aren’t they Senior-level Aurors?”

 

“Embarrassing? It’s a fecking joke!” Said Finlay. 

 

The group began to swap identical opinions on the events at Hogwarts, all immaculately recycled from the Daily Prophet and the Ministry-prescribed talking points. Tonks doubted any of them were being truly honest about what they thought. 

 

“Never known you to be so quiet, Tonks,” said Finlay. “You look positively pensive. What d’you reckon about all this?”

 

Tonks shrugged.

 

“As long as Umbridge doesn’t meddle with us Aurors too much, I’m not bothered what she does.”

 

Finlay winked at her.

 

“Always the rebel,” he said.

 

Tonks stuffed an eggy forkful of pasta into her mouth in response.

 

“Dumbledore should have been chucked long ago,” said Duffie, dashing Tonks’ hopes for a change of subject. “He employed a werewolf to teach children. A _werewolf_. Just think about that.”

 

Tonks almost chipped a tooth on her fork. That was _her_ werewolf he was talking about. It was time to employ a little trick that she’d been working on for moments in which her temper threatened to unmask her double agent status: if she concentrated hard enough on morphing a tiny, precise thing on the most obscure part of her body she could think of, without screwing up her face, there was no room in her head for fury. She began dyeing a millimetre-thick line of the skin on her inner forefinger electric blue. 

 

“Funny thing is, my little brother Fergus said he was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor he had,” said Finlay, tucking into the vindaloo in his food-summoner. 

 

Tonks looked at her college friend, hoping to see a sincere expression. Instead, the firelight illuminated a derisive smile. Unwelcome memories of their blurry, drunken stumblings into bed years earlier - in what felt like a different universe - made Tonks want to wince.

 

“Shows you how much Hogwarts is going to the dogs - literally!” Said Duffie. 

 

The cave rang with laughter, including a mechanical chuckle from Tonks. She despised acting. She had always prided herself on her willingness to take a stand. Her conscience never allowed her to simply follow the crowd - whether it was propelling a shrivelfig up Eurydice Clap’s nose for muttering _mudblood_ under her breath about Chantal Bonner in Herbology Greenhouse Two, or starting a doomed petition in her first year at the Ministry to have a series of equality-spirited edits made to the Fountain of Magical Brethren. But now, blending into the casual prejudices of wizards was essential for not arousing suspicion. Tonks supposed her new ability to do so was a sign that she’d matured, but it was small comfort right then and there.

 

“To be fair,” said Tamar. “He actually was a decent teacher. I had him in my final year at school. I really needed an O in Defence Against the Dark Arts but I was right on the border because the previous professor had been so useless. Lupin gave me extra lessons to coach me for the exam. I had no idea what he was of course…but I ended up getting one of the best marks in the year.”

 

Tonks’ spirits lifted so high that they soared. She knew, of course, that Remus with his piercing cleverness, his extraordinary kindness, his quiet authority, must have been an incredible teacher. But hearing him praised like that made her heart sing. Many pairs of eyebrows were raised and awkward looks exchanged, but Tonks passed Tamar one of her custard creams. 

 

It wasn’t long until their break ended and the Aurors cleared the cave, mounting brooms and disillusioning themselves: they had to comb the entire island by dawn. The rain had cleared and the full moon now shone unhindered as they flew. Tonks flipped up the hood of her cape, trying not to think of Remus in the cellar, trapped in the wolf, claws and teeth ripping his skin. He felt very far away. But she had something small and secret to remind her of him: the morph she’d done on the inside of her finger, only visible at a squint. A single, uninterrupted blue line that curved into two shapes: a tiny, ant-sized ‘R’ crossed with a tiny, ant-sized ‘T’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone reading my story! Even though the angst is growing for our lovely protagonists, I’m still having the best time writing and look forward to sharing the next parts of Remus and Tonks’ journey with you all (seven chapters to go!). Would love to know what you think :) T xx


	20. Scales Fall

**Chapter 19: Scales Fall**

 

“See you on the other side, mate.” 

 

Sirius’ hand on Remus’ shoulder was gentle. He knew not to clap it down, not to squeeze, not to trouble a body already wracked with marrow-deep aches. Remus nodded, his brain sore inside his skull. No smile as he walked to the cellar door; his mouth was dry and his heart danced in palpitations. 

 

“Thanks, Padfoot.”

 

He turned back to Sirius, his fingers pulling the concealed door out from the wall. Sirius considered him for a second then strode across the room to pull Remus into a hug. Surprised, Remus didn’t quite raise his own arms to reciprocate. Into his sensitive nostrils came the dusty smell of Sirius’ hair, the straw of Buckbeak’s room, the faint tang of alcohol. 

 

“She’s coming back, you know,” Sirius’ voice was a low burr in Remus’ ear. “In one piece and feeling exactly the same way about you.” 

 

Remus didn’t want to hear it. He stepped backwards out of the embrace, jaw tight. Sirius was being kind - hoping that saying this would somehow make his transformation easier, would soothe his mind before it broke - but it wouldn’t. Tonks was gone. Their affair was over. The enforced separation would be the catalyst for the inevitable. Remus tugged at the opening and bent his head to enter, leaving the gloaming dimness of the kitchen to plunge into the cellar’s pitch black. The metal bolt clanged, sending harsh echoes down into the hollow pit behind him, as Remus locked himself in. He covered every inch of the door with strengthening spells; fusing it with the wall, ensuring a barrier of magical and physical impenetrability. When he was satisfied, he undressed, shocking his skin into goosebumps as it was exposed to the chill of this deepest cavity of Grimmauld Place. He placed his clothes and, with a sting of relinquishment, his wand, into a nook above his head. Then, turning, his pupils unable to adjust to let in even the slightest bit of light, he began to descend. 

 

His bare feet were numb by the time they touched the cellar floor but he began to do what he always did: he paced the floor, compulsively, arms wrapped tight around himself, head bent. It had to be dark. Remus couldn’t stand witnessing what was about to happen to his body. He knew the exact dimensions of the brutal stone cube, just as he’d been able to walk the splintering floorboards of the Shrieking Shack without any light, just as he’d memorised every corner of the portable prison his parents had built for him when he was a child.

 

He was having to take great gulps of air now. It felt damp in his lungs and tasted metallic on his tongue: no matter how many scouring charms he cast, the blood never seemed to entirely wash away. There would be more to come tonight. Remus shivered; his stomach churned; a hot flush sent sweat beading on his forehead. He knew that the sun must have just dipped below the horizon. The aches that had blossomed in the pit of each muscle slowly throughout the day became needle pricks, and then twisting knives. He stopped pacing and pressed his face into the corner of two walls meeting, letting out a long guttural groan; his body cowed, his knees threatening to buckle.He had survived thirty-two years of transformations but no amount of experience could prevent the crumbling of his nerve during the final moments: the primal dread of being on the brink of losing himself. The real panic was setting in now and, alone as he was, his brain started to summon up longings as if they were life-rafts. Something about the utter absence of light was making the pictures come thick and fast. Like a man condemned, walking the gallows and looking up to the sky to watch the birds in flight, searching desperately for an impossible hope before the hood dropped, Remus saw her face: Nymphadora Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks. 

 

_Please make it stop._

 

The shakes started. His breath came in choked hacks. The change began and with it came the first scream: head snapped back, no one to hear him. The joints started to break, but not efficiently - they splintered, cracked themselves, were forced into fusing anew. His skull squashed and moulded itself like putty into a new shape, forcing his brain to elongate, sending white flashes across his vision. His muscles cramped and ripped, whilst a burn of fur spread across his body, bursting through the follicles. Over the screams that were becoming snarls, he heard the clicking of the nodules of his spine: he was sent forward onto the floor and it was twisted claws, dagger sharp, that landed. He could see the details of the tiny, grey room more clearly now, his own eyes had been replaced. The final violation was the loss of his mind, the explosion of pain that felt endless when it came, his own consciousness screwed down into a tight, sunken place. It was the only way: the wolf had to be born through pain, its corporeality only possible when pushed through a wall of agony because that’s what it fed on. It was chaos, destruction, evil beyond the animal.

 

_Rage. And hunger. Such a need to tear and bite. Such a need to feel the hot gush of blood around the jaws, the rending of teeth puncturing skin, the pulse of another sending nourishment rushing down the throat. Circling, circling, but nothing - no scent of flesh, nothing to kill. Howling. Howling, howling and howling because no way out. Rage. And hunger.  A hurling of the body against the walls, even when it rattled the skull, even when it crunched the bones, only needing to get out. Walls everywhere. Fury making teeth plunge and claws tear into the only living body to be found. Hate, hate, hate. Such a waste. The night passing and the hate gathering, against the locking away, against the coming change - more blood, the only way. Teeth finding a new depth and a rupture. Then a falling limp, a last yearning, and a blackness brought by pain._

 

Remus opened his eyes to black nothingness. Outside of where he lay in the wretched underbelly of the house, he knew that the sun must have risen. He was trembling with cold, but his lower legs felt warm: they were in a puddle. He tried to move them, but something wasn’t right. Usually he would drag himself up the stairs, cover himself as best he could, and undo the spells on the door. But not this morning. His head was swimming. Sirius wouldn’t be able to hear any calls for aid even if he was able to make them. Remus closed his eyes again…so tired…he didn’t want to feel the blood leaving him, he wanted to dream instead…dark blue eyes, warm arms holding him in the night, a wild, delighted laugh…

 

“Moony? You alright down there?” 

 

Remus’ eyelids fluttered, momentarily revealing Sirius’ silhouette at the top of the stairs, surrounded by glaring white light. He heard swearing and rapid footsteps. Remus tried to speak, but could only manage a thin rasp. Something warm and woolly wafted down over him, cloaking his body.

 

“Alright mate, it’s going to be okay. Let’s get you upstairs.” 

 

Then Sirius did something he hadn’t done since they were teenagers: he lifted Remus up off the floor in his arms. Distantly, as his head bobbed unsupported through the air, Remus wondered at his friend’s uncanny strength: his ability to carry six feet’s worth of limp body despite the wasting of Azkaban. Then Remus caught sight of his leg: it hung down from the blanket and his calf was a mess of blood, just visible were four trench-like teeth marks which oozed and spotted the floor. On reaching the hallway, everything started to come back to him: Tonks was gone. Remus blinked back a single, stinging tear. 

 

“Kreacher hopes every drop of filthy blood leaks out of him…”

 

Sirius yelled so loudly that it made Remus’ ears ring. He felt Sirius’ body jerk, almost dropping him, and a chair went flying away towards the elf who dived out of sight. Sirius continued to rave and swear - out of breath - as he carried Remus up the stairs. Sirius kicked open the door to Remus’ bedroom and laid him down on the bed. Slipping in and out of wakefulness, Remus wished he could tell Sirius not to let it bother him so - Kreacher hadn’t said anything that he himself didn’t occasionally hope - but all he could manage was,

 

“Thanks…Padfoot…sorry…”

 

Sirius just shook his head, his mouth a hard line, his heavy, aristocratic brow furrowed as he cast a series of spells. Remus turned his head to the side and tried not to watch as blood saturated the sheets on which he had made love to Tonks for the final time.

 

—-

 

Every day that went by only served to bring Remus’ obsession over his final moments with Tonks to fever pitch. He kept replaying the moment that he woke up in a cold sweat with her crouching above him - and each time the look of disgust and shock on her face became more stark. She would have seen him writhing on the ground, the sheet sliding away to reveal his bite scar, teeth grinding, like an animal. But that wasn’t all. When he wasn’t too much beast for her, he was too far the other way - _“you don’t have to get all sensible as soon as you get the chance”_ \- how prim, austere and aged he must seem to her. Weeks passed and the nights only seemed to get longer; the memories to get sharper with every toss and turn. 

 

A brief, shining, nostalgic interruption to his nightmares came with Harry’s unexpected visit to the fireplace, but Remus’ joy at having a memory of James reawakened was soon dampened by the disturbing news that Snape had ceased Harry’s occlumency lessons. That night Remus sat down at his writing desk and inked his quill,

 

_Dear Severus,_

 

Remus frowned at the remaining blank space and forced himself to write on, neatly scratching down the rational and polished words of humble persuasion that he hoped would encourage his former colleague to see reason. There was a knock at the door.

 

“Come in,”

 

“Alright, Moony? Look, I’ve been thinking…”

 

These days when Sirius wasn’t rooting out previously undiscovered Black family heirlooms to pile onto an indoor bonfire in the middle of the night, or using the portrait of his mother to practise his spellwork, he was chewing over Dumbledore’s Army. 

 

“…that’s what James and I would have done….maybe Harry and his mates are being too a bit too soft. I mean, would we have let a hag like Umbridge stop us from preparing to fight? No bloody way!”

 

“I think,” Remus said carefully, “that Harry and company should perhaps focus on their revision.”

 

Sirius leant back on the doorframe.

 

“You’re right, Moony. Our good OWL results really helped us to reach the great heights of success and prestige we currently enjoy, didn’t they?” 

 

Despite himself, Remus laughed. Though it was tempered by a prick of sadness for the boy he had once been - a boy wearing a polished prefect’s badge pinned onto second-hand robes who, despite knowing in his heart it was all in vain, couldn’t help hoping that a sparkling set of exam results might pave the way for some as-yet unknown mythical bright future.

 

“What are your plans for the rest of the night?” Said Sirius, before his lip curled in mischief. “Other than moping over my cousin?”

 

Remus ignored the barb. 

 

“Finishing this letter, converting it into code, and then - ”

 

Sirius tilted his head to read it. 

 

“You spelt Snivellus wrong,” he said. “And - oh come on - ‘I’d like to apologise for my own part in the regrettable and immature scene in question’ - you’re not seriously going to post that?” 

 

Sirius swept the piece of parchment out from beneath the nib of Remus’ feather quill.

 

“You really are the master of the painfully polite but completely wrong-headed letter, aren’t you? I’m going to confiscate your quill one of these days.” 

 

Remus blinked. Sirius’ words set off a strange, shifting feeling inside him. He had never told Sirius about the letter he had sent Tonks after their first kiss. The idea that the two of them could have discussed it made him feel queasy.

 

“You shouldn’t capitulate to him. He’s the one in the wrong, not us or Harry,” said Sirius. “What Snape needs is a reminder of who he’s supposed to be working for and that these occlumency lessons aren’t some favour he’s _deigning_ to do for us. But don’t worry, I’ve sent him one already.” 

 

“You’ve written to Snape?”

 

“Yeah. And I told him exactly what I think, no concessions - ” Sirius crumpled up Remus’ letter “ - including that if he ever has the nerve to shout at my godson again I’ll be only too eager to provide a live re-enactment of said memory, no doubt to the delight of every student who’s had the misfortune to end up with an idiot like him for a professor.”

 

“Sirius!” Remus stared at him, searching for a sign that he was joking and finding none. “Was that wise?”

 

“It was enjoyable.”

 

Remus fought back a retort. Sirius was Harry’s godfather, it was his decision. It wasn’t Remus’ place to interfere against his expressed wishes. After all, here he was living in Sirius’ house: fed, housed and patched up every month without paying a single knut to Sirius or receiving a single complaint. After being scooped up off the floor, naked and bloodied, Remus - full of self-disgust - had insisted on returning to his home in Yorkshire to transform in future to rid his friend of the burden but Sirius had flat-out refused, _“I want you here. You need someone to watch over you.”_ An argument about Snape would achieve nothing. It was too late anyway: Snape would only be further antagonised if he received another letter from one of James Potter’s best friends, no matter how diplomatically phrased. Besides, Remus assured himself, Dumbledore would never allow Harry to be in any danger.

 

“Fine. Let’s say no more about it,” Remus said.

 

Sirius’ glare softened, but only slightly.

 

“You’re such a downer since Tonks left. I already told you - nothing’s gonna change. She’s not going to end up shagging some jumped-up-on-energy potions, former Gobstones Team Captain, Ministry pretty boy in a tent, okay?”

 

Sirius peeled himself elegantly from the doorframe and strolled away down the corridor, leaving Remus feeling just as terrible as before but with brand new visuals: someone else making Tonks laugh so hard that she tipped her head back in abandon; someone else falling asleep with their head on her chest, listening to her breathe; someone else’s lips grazing the soft skin of her stomach as they made their way down. Remus’ knuckles turned white as he gripped the desk. He had never been a jealous person. He had never resented James’ athletic prowess, or Sirius’ looks, or any other person who held gifts that he himself could never aspire to: these things only produced a wistful sadness or a remorse that was entirely directed against himself. The flames in his stomach that rose at the thought of the other man who would easily and deservedly be chosen by Tonks were new and passionately unwelcome. He concentrated hard on the only salve against envy that he had: the thought that she would be _happy._ Nothing was more important than that. 

 

——

 

At the next full moon Remus’ leg wound reopened and it was with a slight limp that he walked up the overgrown path to Adrian Mason’s house, despising the movement of his shadow where it fell on the stinging nettles lining the cracked paving slabs. Remus had barely reached the front door before he realised that the place was deserted. The curtains were open, despite the hour, and the windows were dark and blank, like dead eyes. The door was unlocked and yielded to a slight push. Inside, the house had been gutted of whatever meagre personal possessions it had previously stored. The surfaces were grimy and the air felt dusty and full from having been undisturbed for - judging by the unopened pile of healing parcels sent by Remus sat on the windowsill - a good while. Remus walked slowly to the kitchen table where there lay a square of paper. When he read the four words written on it, he didn’t make a sound but his blood chilled.

 

_I need my dignity._  

 

He had failed. 

——-

 

Remus woke, empty-stomached and dehydrated, on the first morning of what marked the seventh week since Tonks’ departure. The loss felt complete. There was an insistent, insidious voice telling him that she’d already returned, days ago, and had wanted to stay away from him. He couldn’t bear to ask Kingsley for confirmation. When he mustered the strength to face the day, he pestered Sirius for spare mission assignments but there was nothing. Anxiety sent him combing the house, searching for occupation, as bad as the place’s owner. He made a sudden decision: he would visit Albus Dumbledore. In many ways, it was a childish urge - to seek an audience with the man who had soothed him on endless occasions as a teenager, the man who stood as a beacon of wisdom for Remus, a source of hope as one of the only unwavering constants he’d ever known - and he felt a little embarrassed to turn up out of the blue. But the maelstrom had built. Remus could feel the war inching towards chaos, the unseen enemies drawing in, and he wanted - needed - to contribute more of himself to it.

 

Dumbledore’s location was top-secret, only discoverable by speaking politely to a bust of Alice Kyteler in the drawing room of Headquarters, and it changed almost hourly. When the bust glowed bright gold, Remus touched it and knew instantly, as if by instinct, where to apparate. He materialised in a forest of twisting, white-bodied trees and began to follow a foxglove-lined dirt path. As he rounded the corner, he just managed to catch sight of a violently purple muggle camper van, complete with glass-beaded curtains and psychedelic stickers on the bumper between the trees in the distance, before something careened into him. The sound it made was a piercing cross between a yelp and squeal and he found his arms full, the breath knocked out of him, all of it too fast to process.

 

“What are you doing here?!”

 

“ _Tonks_?” He breathed.“I’m back!” She said, grinning at him, a mop of platinum blond falling into her eyes. 

 

“When did - ?”

 

“Literally ten minutes ago,” Tonks said, jumping on his sentence. “I had to go straight to Dumbledore - we got _way_ more action that I expected, even made a few decent discoveries!”

 

Remus could only nod dumbly. The way she was smiling at him made him feel like there were clouds, not simply mud, beneath his feet. Weeks of believing it was over between them, of missing her so much it was like a physical pain, and now here she was: back and seemingly delighted to see him. 

 

“I was just about to go home and gussy myself up a bit before surprising you!”

 

Her Auror expedition robes were plastered in mud and painted liberally with multi-coloured splashes from what must have been potions. Her hair stuck up at odd angles. He felt utterly overwhelmed by her. 

 

“There’d be no need for that,” said Remus, the words emerging out of him without any conscious command from his brain. “You look beautiful in anything.”

 

“Anything?” She giggled, linking her fingers through his, making his heart soar. “Even muddy, sweaty robes?”

 

“A burlap sack, Tonks. Anything. Truly.”

 

She launched herself up on tiptoes and kissed him hard, pushing him back around the path’s corner and into the trees near the apparition spot, out of view of the distant van. Remus felt giddy, as if he’d just emptied a whole bottle of champagne down his throat. How could it be that she was back and nothing had changed since their disastrous final night together? 

 

“Told you I wouldn’t forget about you,” she said, smiling against his mouth, as if having read his mind. “It seems you haven’t forgotten me either.”

 

“That would be quite impossible, Tonks.” 

 

She pulled back suddenly and almost overbalanced, but he held her in place. 

 

“Do you like calling me Tonks?” She asked, her eyes searching his. 

 

“Err…” Remus hesitated, caught off guard. “Well I’m not sure I’d like the repercussions of calling you Nymphadora.”

 

“You certainly wouldn’t,” she said, her eyes flashing in a way he found himself adoring. “My lousy excuse for a first name wasn’t what I meant. What I was thinking was…maybe you’d like to be one of the select few who I allow to call me something else?”

 

“Of course I would,” Remus whispered. 

 

“Dora,” she said, beaming now.

 

“Dora,” he repeated. 

 

He forgot that they weren’t in a private place. He forgot to doubt himself. Her lips were soft and her skin smelt fresh, like leaves and bright air. Her hair was fluffy and light, his hand slipped through it like vapour. It all felt so much more real than the imagined, somber conversations he’d tortured himself with. She was euphoric, kissing him as if she could never want another. Remus felt himself slipping, as he had done so many times before, surrendering his fears: danger and consequence going unheeded as Tonks’ robes opened and Remus’ hands slid over the thin material beneath, pulling her by the bend at the small of her back closer to him. She was clinging to him, gasping as he kissed the spot on her neck below her ear which always drove her wild, before she seized the back of his hair and crushed her lips against his. That was when they heard the _crack._

 

Twigs snapped under foot as they broke apart: hands left bodies, faces turned away, Tonks stepped rapidly backwards and fell down in a heap into a cluster of bluebells. But it was too late. Before shame pushed Remus’ gaze down to the floor, he saw two cavern-like black eyes set into a shocked face on which lines were deepening, as if being etched by a chisel, into a mask of revolted derision. It was Severus Snape. 

 


	21. Broken Record

**Chapter 20: Broken Record**

 

Tonks’ robe caught on her heel as she attempted to haul herself up from the ground, causing her boot to slip and decapitate a few bluebells. Once on her feet, she wobbled and pulled her robes tightly back over her chest, breath fluttering the flyaway strands of white hair around her face. She needn’t have bothered to adjust herself: Snape only had eyes for Remus. Her old Potions Master stood, black robe rippling a little, face alight with a strange expression: malicious triumph laced with unmistakeable disgust. Remus wasn’t looking at either of them. His back was turned towards a knot of trees, one hand at his forehead, frozen. 

 

“Well, this is most unexpected,” Snape said, silkily. “Nymphadora, I almost felt the urge to deduct twenty points from Hufflepuff. I suppose it’s little wonder the Order of the Phoenix’s progress has been so lamentably poor lately given that its members seem to be thus…distracted.”

 

Though it was Tonks he had addressed, Snape’s gaze was still burning a hole in the back of Remus’ neck. 

 

“Alright, alright - you’ve out-snided yourself,” said Tonks. “You can skulk away now.”

 

But Snape continued on, black eyes gleaming, as if she hadn’t even spoken,

 

“I suppose a display of - shall we say - _animalistic_ tendencies shouldn’t be entirely unexpected given your condition, but I have to say that even I expected better from you… _Professor_ Lupin.” 

 

Tonks saw Remus wince: his shoulders contracting, his head bowing lower. Snape’s lip curled - he knew he’d struck the killer blow.

 

“Piss off, Snape!” 

 

Their eyes finally met and she glared her sharpest daggers at him. With an air of unhurried satisfaction, he turned and glided away down the path, like a bat through the trees, a black vacuum of light. Tonks marched immediately over to Remus. 

 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

 

She hugged him from behind, looping her arms around his waist. He stiffened as she did so and, even as she apparated them from the spot, he felt brittle in her arms, like he could snap and pieces of him drop away at any moment. When their feet hit ground again, they were in the shade of a jetty, surrounded by barnacled wooden stilts, smelling the fresh-yet-sour air of a Thames-side beach. The first place that had popped into Tonks’ mind, it was where Nana Tonks would sometimes take her mudlarking as a child. The river looked beautiful: blue and glittering, the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf standing tall across the bend, gulls soaring above in the cloudless expanse. But Remus barely looked around him: he strode away from Tonks, out into the sunlight, eyes down, hand roving through his hair again and again. Tonks hurried after him across the sand.

 

“Well, that’s our chance to win the House Cup down the drain.” 

 

Remus wheeled around. The look on his face made her regret the joke instantly.

 

“Sorry,” Tonks said, wearing what she knew was an awkward, lop-sided smile. “I’m just trying to…make you feel better. Look, I know that was brutal - Snape’s a total git - but everything’s going to be okay.”

 

“No, it’s not.”

 

“Of course it - ”

 

“No.”

 

Remus was shaking his head, the colour entirely drained from his face, the bright sunlight making the grey in his hair glint.

 

“And there’s no point pretending otherwise. Don’t you understand? Snape won’t waste this opportunity to twist the knife. He will tell the entire Order, I’m certain of it.”

 

“He might,” Tonks said, slowly, as if trying to talk Remus down from a ledge. “But equally he might not. Don’t you think he’s got bigger things to be getting on with than gossiping about you?”

 

“You don’t know him like I do. You don’t know the extent of the grudge he holds. He’ll use this as a weapon to hurt me, but it’s going to hurt you worst of all. We should never have been so careless. It’s only a matter of time until everyone knows.”

 

Tonks put her hands on Remus’ shoulders, holding him in place. 

 

“So?” She said.

 

Her heart was racing, but the memory of Snape’s pallid disapproval felt more and more irrelevant with each second. It was happening; the conversation they needed to have. 

 

“Would that really be so terrible?”

 

Remus’ eyes widened, he swallowed, floundering to find a response. 

 

“I don’t understand,” he managed. 

 

Tonks took a deep breath and found his hand. His fingers were cold and limp, but she squeezed them nonetheless.

 

“I’ve been thinking that it’s probably time for us to tell the Order anyway. I know that you’ve wanted to wait but…um…”

 

Tonks trailed off. Remus’ hand had slipped out of hers, apparently unconsciously, as he took a jerky step backwards. The buzz of excitement in her belly was changing shape and cold worms of anxiety seemed to be wriggling there instead. Words were bubbling up in her brain, but she didn’t seem to be able to put them in the right order. 

 

“I mean, yeah, it….it made sense to keep everything on the down low at first, when it was all new, but now….well it’s kind of silly isn’t it? To be sneaking around?”

 

Remus didn’t answer. 

 

“Don’t you think?” Tonks prompted. 

 

A pause. And then,

 

“Why would you want anyone to know that you were sleeping with a werewolf?”

 

The self-loathing that hung in every syllable of his whispered words hit Tonks like a stunner to the gut. She could no longer hear the lapping of the river or the distant sound of traffic.

 

“I’m sleeping with Remus Lupin,” she said, as slowly and deliberately as she could.

 

“One and the same.” 

 

“Don’t say that!”

 

“It’s the truth.”

 

“You aren’t your condition!” 

 

“There’s no other way to look at it.”

 

Tonks forced her tone into gentleness though her nails dug into her palm. She stepped closer to him.

 

“The rest of the Order aren’t like Snape. They’re your friends. They accept you and care about you. They’re not going to judge us. It might not even be that much of a surprise to some of them - I reckon Molly’s suspected something for a while and Mad Eye’s way more perceptive about this stuff than you’d think. There are no good reasons for us not to take the plunge and just…I dunno...announce it!”

 

“There are a thousand good reasons not to do that.”

 

Tonks flung her head back and groaned.

 

“This is all because of Snape!” She cried in frustration. “He’s freaked you out exactly like he wanted to with that stupid professor comment. Yes you two are the same age and yes he taught me potions, but he was the youngest professor by far when I was there. Unusually young! The most important thing is that the age difference between us doesn’t matter to me. It’s just numbers - it’s completely meaningless.”

 

“It isn’t meaningless. And it’s hardly the only reason - ”

 

“You’re a werewolf!” She said, voice rising out of her control. “I know and I don’t care! I’ve told you this so many times, I’m like a bloody broken record, I don’t care!”

 

“But you should care,” he said, glancing quickly around, his voice less than half the volume of hers. “If this became public knowledge…the repercussions for you…”

 

Tonks stared at Remus as his words faded away into nothingness. He was shrinking away from her, strain in every aspect of his body language.

 

“Are you ashamed?” She asked. 

 

“Not of you, Tonks. Never of you.”

 

Dora. He was supposed to say _Dora_.

 

Tonks grit her teeth. She’d spent weeks yearning for him, weeks fantasising about how their relationship was going to grow, and he was throwing it all back in her face. Tonks had never been a patient person, but she’d waited. Tonks had never been a sensible person, but she’d tempered herself. All for him. Keeping her voice steady was like trying to prevent a lit firework from exploding as she pressed on:

 

“But you’re ashamed of what we have?” 

 

“I….It’s…difficult to explain…”

 

“Too complicated for me, is it?” 

 

“No…that’s not what I mean…”

 

“What _do_ you mean?” 

 

“A proper relationship with me would be catastrophic for you.”

 

“Wow,” said Tonks, taking short sharp breaths, pacing rivets into the sand, squashing bits of plastic under her boots. “Wow. And here’s me under the crazy impression that we were already _in_ a proper relationship.”

 

Remus only stared at her, eyes wide. Her questions came like catapults.

 

“So what? Has this all been _casual_ to you?” 

 

“No Tonks, it’s - ”

 

“Just us ‘sleeping together’ as you put it? No strings attached!”

 

“No! Please don’t - “

 

“Or do you think it’s just some kind of fling - a dark creature _phase_ I’m going through - until I get a better offer and go off to shag someone else?”

 

Remus hesitated. Tonks reeled with the insult of it. 

 

“You seriously think I would _ever_ \- ” she banged her sternum with the heel of her hand “ - do that to you? You seriously think that this - ” her hands waved wildly back and forward between them “ - isn’t extraordinary? Because it is! And you’re a flipping idiot if you don’t realise that!” 

 

“I - I didn’t know that was how you felt,” Remus rasped, his voice barely audible. 

 

“And how exactly do you feel?” 

 

“How I feel isn’t important.”

 

“It’s pretty damn important to me.”

 

Remus shook his head, mouth clamped shut.

 

“Tell me!”

 

“A real relationship with me would ostracise you from the whole of society. Surely you can see that? The Order would find it difficult enough to accept, let alone your friends and family if they ever found out. They would be utterly horrified, they -”

 

“My friends and family are not bigoted!” Tonks snapped. “How dare - ”

 

“I’m not talking about bigotry - though there’s plenty enough of that around to make your life miserable - there’s a huge difference between wanting legal equality for werewolves and wanting your only daughter to bring one home!”

 

“They’d want me to be happy!”

 

“Of course they would, that’s entirely my point - you wouldn’t, you couldn’t ever be, happy with me. I have nothing to offer, hardly a sickle to my name, barely more than the robes on my back and a dilapidated hovel, the only thing standing between me and destitution is Sirius’ generosity - ”

 

“I don’t give a shit about money - !”

 

“Money is the least of it! It pales in comparison to the fact that I’m infectious, that being with me means risking mutilation once every month. Not to mention that if the Ministry found out, you could lose your position as an Auror - ”

 

“But that’s exactly what we’re fighting against! We’re trying to build a better world, aren’t we?”

 

“ - the job that you’ve devoted your life to, that you are exceptional at, and for what purpose? So you could hold onto a relationship that tethers you, sets you apart from the people you love, with a threat hanging over your head all the while? That’s what a proper relationship with me would mean and you deserve _incalculably_ more than that. So of course everyone would judge us - how could they not?”

 

Tonks didn’t have the strength to shout back this time. She understood what he was saying and it felt like a hair-line crack through her heart.

 

“Sounds to me like you’re the one who thinks we shouldn’t be together.”

 

A salty lump was collecting at the back of her throat. Her eyes burned. Silence was the worst possible response she could receive from him, but that was what she was getting. She seemed to have lost control of her chin, it wobbled. She stared hard at two bright pebbles at her feet: she wouldn’t cry, she refused to cry, but if she kept looking at his face - that enigmatic face she adored, both young and old, weary and handsome, now looking bloodless and panicked - she would crumble. She gave him two more seconds until she had no other choice. 

 

“You are fucking unbelievable,” she croaked.

 

She pulled her wand out of her robe and promptly dropped it. She ducked down and seized it back up, a tear dropping onto the sand as she did so, before straightening up quickly, wiping her face furiously.

 

“Wait. Tonks, please….”

   
But those three words weren’t enough. Tonks’ wand slashed the air and she was gone.

 

—————

 

Tonks apparated straight from the riverside to her communal staircase, blasting open the door to her apartment and slamming it so hard behind her that the timber trembled, no thought spared for Josephine Drudge in the flat below. She stomped across the floorboards, the skeletons of Mildred’s unlucky nightly victims getting crushed beneath her feet; the spines and skulls of various voles, mice and Merlin knew what else quickly reduced to dust. One minute she railed against Snape, the next against Remus and, finally, against herself. But no matter how she looked at it, everything circled back to the same truth: Remus didn’t see a future between them. They’d never really moved on from that night in the library. She was still fighting to prove herself, her heart offered up for the taking, whilst he was still clinging onto his demons for dear life. All the intimacy they’d shared; the life-and-death trust they’d built in one another; the small gestures, secret smiles and belly laughs; the core-rumbling, life affirming sex…none of it had been enough for him.

 

At first, all Tonks could do was cry. Eventually she forced herself to scratch out reports, trying to take refuge in the completion of her duty - one official report to Kingsley, one unofficial coded report to Mad Eye - though her quill threatened to puncture the parchment more than once and the ink smudged. When she had finished, she threw her quill aside: there was no one else she could write to. Rules of Order secrecy aside, how could she even begin to explain this mess to any of her old friends? Their days of laughing about casual romantic entanglements in dormitories were long gone. And her parents? No chance. Tonks felt an uncomfortable twinge that she didn’t want to examine too closely - could Remus be right? Would they all reject him on principle? The thought sent her into another spiral: she stood under the shower for so long that her skin wrinkled, she mulled and raged for hours, she kept checking the window for a letter she knew wouldn’t come. Until, finally, she pulled her patchwork quilt over her head and tried to sleep.

 

It was long-dark, the bleakest hours of the night, when Tonks raised her pounding head, giving up. Her temples throbbed. Her cheeks were crusted with salt. Her eyelids felt three times their natural size. She didn’t know how much time had passed since she’d flung herself into the oblivion of her pillow, but she’d never quite slept, only rolled and tangled herself up, phrases and angry snippets from the argument crawling around her head. It was only as she dragged her feet out of the hot bed and onto the floor, that the worst of her anger began to drop away and a little clarity came: she probably shouldn’t have flown off the handle. Tonks wiped her nose with her wrist.

 

Dust had gathered on the old vinyl player since she’d been away: she blew on it, the cloud tickling her nose, and ran her hand over the smooth top. She’d been naive when he’d given this to her, she could see that now. He’d gifted her what was, she knew - having seen the bare cupboards of his bedroom - his most precious possession and she’d accepted it without question, believing it an indisputable, romantic clue to his true feelings. But she’d been wrong: the only reason Remus gave it to her was because he cared about her more than he cared about himself; because he wanted to make her smile even if it meant cutting away a part of himself. Tonks stood up. She couldn’t let Remus break both their hearts. Convincing him he was worthy - and that her personal choice was worth something - was going to be a much longer road than she could ever have anticipated. But - Tonks looked down at the tiny markings on her inner finger, the ‘R’ crossed with the ‘T’ - when had she ever shied away from a challenge before?

 

She padded out of her bedroom to the kitchen and leant over the sink to throw open the window, sticking her head out. The breeze, still warm despite the lateness of the hour, soothed her. The sound of the city was strengthening: she drew the air, laced with the familiar taste of traffic fumes, into her lungs. She needed to dig deep; to find the tenacity that always helped her dig her heels in when the going got tough. She pulled her head back inside and turned on the tap, sucking water from the stream, before letting it run all over her face. No more tears. No more wallowing. Tonks found some robes, pulled them over her pyjamas and vanished with a _crack_.

 

———

 

Twelve Grimmauld Place was heavy with memory. The eyes of the hallway’s oil paintings followed her as Tonks, shoe-less and concentrating, sidestepped the troll-leg umbrella stand, succeeded in avoiding the creaking third stair, and quietly made her way up into the growing dark of the higher levels of the house. When she reached Remus’ door, she tapped her knuckles softly on the wood. Silence.

 

“He’s not there.”

 

Tonks swore, crunching her socked-toes against the door as she jumped. 

 

“Sirius! You scared the living daylights out of me!”

 

He was peering at her through the gloom: leaning a shoulder against the wall, the hollows below his cheekbones accentuated by flickering candle-glow, his eyes an inky black. For a second, he looked as though he had only just crawled out from his old cell.

 

“What are you doing awake?” 

 

Sirius shrugged.

 

“Sleep doesn’t always come easy to this household.”

 

“Yeah….I’ve noticed that…” 

 

Tonks bit her lip. She was about to ask if Sirius was feeling okay, before he spoke first,

 

“Moony’s on the roof.”

 

“He’s - what? On the _roof_?”

 

“Been there hours. He came back late, all rattled, wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. What happened?”

 

“We had a row.”

 

“Do you need me to bang your heads together?” 

 

Tonks didn’t have the energy to laugh. Anxiety weighed on her at the thought of Remus somewhere above them, all alone on the roof.

 

“It was bad, mate. Really bad.” 

 

Sirius sighed, the sarcasm fading from his face. 

 

“Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

 

Tonks told Sirius everything. Though the candles on the walls burnt low, she could see by the tendons that rose in his forearms that his fist was wrapped around the wand in his pocket.

 

“Right, so it’s Snivellus’ fault. He really is a prize cunt.”

 

“You’re not wrong, Sirius, but...I dunno...Snape wound him up with those pathetic insults, true, but Remus meant every word he said, I could tell. All these reasons why we’re supposedly wrong for each other just came pouring out of him - ” Tonks began counting them out on her fingers, “ - he’s penniless, I’d lose my job, he’s too old for me, my parents would go nuts if they knew, he’s a danger to be around…I already knew those things bothered him of course but…this whole time I thought we were getting somewhere - even if it was at a snail’s pace - instead it turns out he’s been in some weird limbo, waiting for me to dump him at any moment. Has he ever talked to you about it?”

 

“He’s a pretty private person. Always has been. I can’t pretend I’m surprised he had that reaction though - he’s never believed your feelings for him would last. My hope was that over time, he’d start to realise the truth - that you two are bloody great together - and accept it before something happened that would make him panic and kickstart every masochistic, noble prat impulse he has.”

 

“Something like Snape apparating in on us getting off with each other?”

 

“I hadn’t foreseen that specifically, but yeah. As much as I hate to say it, it might not have been the smartest moment you could have chosen to ask him to be your boyfriend.”

 

Tonks glared.

 

“I told you to go gently, didn’t I?”

 

“Fine,” said Tonks, grinding her molars together. “But you didn’t tell me he was the most infuriating man on the planet!”

 

“I thought that went without saying.”

 

“Well, I’m in a right pickle now aren’t I? He’s as good as told me there’s no future.”

 

“Don’t believe that for a second. Being with you is Remus’ dream come true. The problem is that he’s a self sabotaging idiot who’s convinced you can do better.”

 

“I don’t care that he’s a werewolf,” Tonks said wearily, fingernails raking her hair.

 

“I believe you, mate. But I’m not the one you need to convince,” Sirius said, his tone almost pitying. “I never said it was going to be easy. You’ll get there…gradually.”

 

“But I’m rubbish at doing things gradually! Merlin knows I’ve tried tiptoeing around, but I can’t help saying what I believe - even when my foot’s in my mouth and my words are as subtle as bricks - it’s who I am! Is this how it’s always going to be with me and him? Me having to constantly be on my best behaviour, walking a tightrope between giving him enough affection to soothe his insecurities, but not so much that he bolts? Keeping everything secret like it’s something shameful, when I know it’s not?”

 

Sirius looked grave.

 

“Don’t give up on him, Tonks.”

 

Tonks smiled, a little sadly.

  
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

 

She could see in Sirius’ face that he knew exactly what she meant. He no longer looked like he’d just dragged himself out of a sun-deprived hole in Azkaban: life shone in his eyes and his smile was youthful and handsome. He gripped her shoulder and kissed her forehead; all scratchy beard and old whisky. Tonks felt warmth spreading inside her, considering all the strange twists that had brought them both to this point: two blooms of the Black family tree, one blasted off, one never even stitched, together now in the decaying, ancestral home. 

 

“Go and get him.”

 

Sirius clapped her on the shoulder, then slipped away down the stairs as Tonks continued up them. Her hands stroked the dark mahogany bannisters as she ascended, getting closer and closer to Remus. Somewhere in a distant corner of one of the rooms she passed, she could hear a rattle: doxies perhaps, or a boggart, or Kreacher up to no good. The house was untameable - but aren’t we all, Tonks thought.

 

She succeeded in easing herself through the window and onto the roof without generating the usual level of clatter that would announce her presence. She saw Remus’ frame: a murky silhouette against the yellow lights of Islington, the silver and red spots of distant skyscrapers, the hazy cityscape. He was completely still.

 

“I’d like to be alone, Sirius. Please.”

 

Tonks said nothing but raised her wand. A rainbow of bright, blinking streamers of light flowed from it out towards Remus. They exploded quietly above his head, sparks dropping down like rain around him where he lent on the ledge. He turned, face lit by their glow, disbelief in his eyes. Neither spoke but Tonks knew they were both thinking of that first touch of lips. Tonks felt older now, but her desire hadn’t waned. She’d do whatever it took to convince him.

 

“Come inside with me,” she whispered. 

 

She held her hand out to him. He didn’t move. He stood with the wind ruffling his hair, staring transfixed at her face, as if not trusting his eyes that she had really come. She didn’t drop her hand until he finally took it, his fingers like ice. 

 

———

 

Tonks took off her robes in silence, then slipped beneath the sheets of Remus’ bed, feeling the coolness of the fabric against her legs, all bare in her snidget-patterned pyjama shorts. Remus didn’t join her. He sat on the edge looking down at his clasped hands.

 

“Sorry for calling you a flipping idiot,” she said to the back of his head.

 

“I deserved it,” he replied, without turning. “I deserved all of it.”

 

Tonks fought down a crinkle of annoyance: did he have to constantly revert back to self pity; did she always have to stay jaunty and steadfast through it all to keep them on track? They were too tired to have this conversation. 

 

“Let’s not talk now. Come and lie down with me,” she said, sitting up to reach over and rub his shoulder, which shivered strangely beneath her touch - almost a flinch. 

 

“Just to sleep,” she added. “We can dream away our troubles for a bit, how’s that?”

 

Remus relented. Silently, he removed his robes and shoes and took his place in the bed beside her. Tonks didn’t comment on the fact that he kept every other item of clothing on: shirt, trousers, all. He lay staring at the ceiling. Tonks turned onto her side and wriggled closer to him. She kissed the cotton of his shoulder, unable to help it. She’d missed him so much. After a few more minutes of silence, he turned onto his side so they faced each other. Tonks touched her forehead against his. 

 

“Will you hold me?” She asked. 

 

Slowly his arms encircled her. Tonks let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d held.

 

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” she whispered. “I’ll wait.”

   
A long pause.

 

“I’m so sorry for hurting you,” he said.

 

“We’ll work everything out,” she said, giving his thin frame a squeeze. “Sirius himself told me not to give up on you and - ”

 

“Sirius said that?” 

 

If there was a sudden edge to Remus’ voice, Tonks didn’t notice it: her mind was beginning to shut down with relief at the cessation of their cross words, the warmth of his arms, the heady, familiar smell she’d longed for.

 

“Yeah. And I don’t intend to.” 

 

It wasn’t long before Tonks drifted away into sleep. Remus held her all night until the sun rose, his eyes wet, praying that his pounding heart and uneven breathing wouldn’t wake her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my lovely commenters, subscribers, bookmarkers and kudos-givers! You guys are the best xx


	22. Wounds, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Graphic description of injuries

**Chapter 21: Wounds**

 

_Coward._

 

The word weighed on Remus as he lay in his room: it was heavy and immovable, like a great creature sat on his chest, pressing down on his lungs. Tonks had left in a flurry, oversleeping, the door clicking shut before Remus realised that the quick, unexpected kiss she’d given him, missing his mouth, had been the final kiss they’d ever share. He’d let her sleep in his bed and then leave without doing what he must. All the many mistakes he’d made in his life came to him now, accusations circling around him: the secrets he’d kept, the friend he’d left to rot, the latent weaknesses overtaking his better impulses again and again. And now this: making Tonks believe she wanted to be with him. The joy of her company had consumed him, the sensual pleasure had intoxicated him and all the while he’d underestimated the irrational, miraculous goodness of her: not realising that her heart had been open to him the whole time. And he’d made her cry. Watching her dear face crumple had made him want to walk out into the river, knowing that he was responsible. 

 

He’d felt drawn to the roof. As if returning to the location where his self-control first snapped would somehow provide answers, would somehow let him turn back the clock. That night, he could have slipped his hand out of hers and stayed in the warm press of bodies as the champagne glasses were filled and the cheers rang out for the turn of the year, instead of obeying the tug to the staircase. Then he would never have cast a stream of fireworks for her. He would never have watched her spinning beneath the colours lighting up the sky. He would never have kissed her.

 

Remus’ head throbbed, but he could no longer bear to lie still: it was too easy to succumb to memory and memory was dangerous. Down in the kitchen, Kreacher was stoking the fireplace, muttering a rapid stream of words to himself, rasping phlegm with every thrust of the poker.

 

“Kreacher, do you know where Sirius is?”

 

The elf jumped, the metal poker clanging to the stone floor, and turned his rheumy eyes to look at Remus.

 

“Kreacher did not realise master’s friend was still here…very quiet he is…haunting the corridors of my poor mistress…master is with the other beast upstairs, master asked Kreacher to fetch him the healing kit…”

 

“Is Buckbeak hurt? What happened?”

 

“Kreacher did not see…Kreacher does not believe the beast is in danger…”

 

Kreacher looked very much like he wished for the opposite. His eyes darted from the fireplace to Remus and back, before he picked the poker up again and jabbed the coals, making them fizz with red sparks, the flames growing taller.

 

“…beasts making the noble House of Black filthy…boggarts polluting it again, doxies tearing at mistress’ beloved things, blood traitors coming and going at all hours…and there’s the werewolf, always lurking, a leech on the master…”

 

Remus turned and left without another word. When he reached the upper floors, Sirius’ patronus passed him in a brief shimmer of silver before vanishing. Behind the door to Buckbeak’s room, he could hear Sirius speaking in a low voice to the hippogriff, soothing him; whatever message had been sent, it must not have been urgent. Remus hesitated at the door, but a rattling coming from the spare room on the opposite side of the corridor turned his head. Kreacher was right. The house was falling apart - just in time for the holidays and the return of Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys to Grimmauld Place. Summer was impossible to imagine: how could he face them all now that the exposure of his and Tonks’ secret was imminent? The rattling continued and Remus followed it, pulled, almost yearningly, towards the distraction. He pushed open the door, strode toward the jittering trunk in the corner and flicked his wand. The trunk burst open and Remus looked up for the full moon he knew would be hanging there, but there was nothing. Instead, a strange choking noise made him look down at the floor.

 

Tonks was lying at his feet. She was trying to breathe, her chest hitching, but she was choking on blood. Her throat had been torn out. Blood bubbled from her ripped neck, flowing down her chest in stripes of gore across her clothing; trickling out of her mouth and into an expanding pool on the floorboards, where her hair lay stained and submerged. Her arms were flung up above her head and riven with puncture marks, laced with the jet black outline of the curse. Her body twitched and her fingers spasmed as she looked up at him. He could smell her wounds; the metallic smell coating his windpipe as his desperate breath unwillingly pulled it in. Her face was greying. The pupils of her eyes were huge. She was frightened, terrified, knowing it was the end, knowing he had done it, wordlessly asking him why. Her legs convulsed once more. Then her chest was still. Remus saw the light leave her eyes and they became blank. But the vision didn’t disappear: still Tonks lay, no longer breathing, limp and alone on the floor. Remus stumbled backwards so far that his spine whacked the far wall, winding him. His hand shook as he raised his wand, but fear paralysed him: he had to shut his eyes, unable to take the sight anymore. He could feel the presence of the moon high above. He could feel the presence of the hungry, watching thing that lived in his head. 

 

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the floorboards creaked and Sirius came in. He flinched and hissed air in between his teeth on seeing Tonks, but one quick side glance at Remus told him everything he needed to know. 

 

“ _Riddikulus!_ ”

 

Now Tonks was sitting up. Blood was still gushing, but only from her nose. She pinched the top of it with one hand, dabbing her soaked top with another and laughing, a little nasally. Beside her lay a discarded Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes wrapper. Remus hardly took any of it in: he ran from the room, barely making it into the first bathroom he could find before vomiting into the sink. Stomach acid burnt his throat; violent cramps lurched inside him as his body tried to expel emptiness.

“Best not to tackle a boggart when sleep deprived and mentally drained. You know that better than anyone,” said Sirius, appearing in the open doorway. 

 

Gasping and with insides still panging, Remus vanished the mess. Then he turned on the tap and splashed its icy water over his face. Some of it trickled beneath his collar and ran down his back, making him shudder. He cupped his hands and drank, but the phantom metallic taste wouldn’t go away. Remus met his own eyes in the mirror: he had to protect her. Whatever it took.

 

“That will never happen,” Sirius said, his tone softer. “You know that right? You’d never let it. Neither would she.” 

 

Remus wanted to tell Sirius to stop talking, to shut up about what he didn’t understand, but he didn’t yet trust his stomach enough to open his mouth. He stayed leaning on the sink, looking down into the plughole. 

 

“You don’t need me to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway: boggarts take the nastiest thing they can find in your brain and turn it into glorious technicolour. It’s an illusion. Don’t let it get under your skin. Come on, you look horrendous - I’ll put the kettle on.”

 

Remus raised his head. 

 

“Why did you tell Tonks not to give up on me?”

 

His voice sounded hollow. It echoed a little on the bathroom’s marble floor. Sirius turned.

 

“Ah,” he said. “She told you about our conversation last night.”

 

“Only those words.” 

 

Sirius made a quiet sort of sigh in the back of his throat, but looked unblinkingly back at Remus.

 

“Why would you say something like that to her?”

 

“It’s pretty self-explanatory. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to give up on you.”

 

“You’ve been encouraging her. Without my knowledge. For how long?”

 

“It’s not some cloak and dagger conspiracy, mate. We just talked about it a couple of times. ”

 

“Did you know she wanted to pursue something serious from the beginning?”

 

“It was pretty obvious from where I was standing, yeah.”

 

“Yet you advised me not to consider the future at all.”

 

“My advice to you was not to overthink things. My advice to her was to take things slowly. Hardly your strong suits, I know, but someone had to tell the pair of you.”

 

“You had no right to interfere.”

 

“You’re blowing this out of proportion. I’m no matchmaker, I haven’t been moving you both around like chess pieces - I just gave you the little nudges you needed. It was the only way.”

 

“The only way for what exactly?”

 

“You might be perfect for each other, but you’re as different as a bat and a bicorn. I had to make sure that she wouldn’t bubble over and you wouldn’t run for the hills before you figured out how to be happy together.”

 

“There is no way for us to be happy together.”

 

“You’re a right stubborn fool sometimes.”

 

Sirius folded his arms. He wasn’t quite smiling but Remus thought he could detect amusement.

 

“And you’ve overstepped, Sirius. Tonks thinks that what she wants is for she and I to be a couple; for whatever we’ve had these past six months to blossom into a long-term, public commitment.” 

 

“She certainly does, but I think you’re overestimating my influence on her. She set her heart on you long before I had anything to say about it. You really ought to listen to her more - her choice should mean something to you.”

 

“And her safety should mean something to you. I thought you’d grown to care about her.” 

 

“Course I have. She’s terrific. And completely bonkers. And happens to be the only blood relative I’ve got who isn’t either a homicidal maniac or under the impression that I’m a homicidal maniac. But what you just saw back there - ” Sirius pointed over his shoulder to the corridor, “ - is fiction. It’s never going to happen. You’re too careful.”

 

“Am I? Too careful? You yourself witnessed my transformation in the Hogwarts grounds - I could have brutalised Harry, Ron and Hermione in exactly the same way.”

 

“Not your finest moment, granted, but I was there to stop you. That night was different anyway, it was - ” 

 

“You can’t let your friendship with me blind you to the risks I pose to her,” Remus said, not willing to listen to more excuses made on his behalf. “A real, lasting relationship with me is not something to be encouraged.”

 

Sirius raised his eyebrows.

 

“She slept in your bedroom last night, but somehow I’m the one encouraging her. There’s something wrong with your logic, Moony.”

 

Blood rushed to Remus’ cheeks, but he didn’t waver.

 

“Nothing happened. I wouldn’t…I _couldn’t_ …not after what she told me. We’ll never be together in that way ever again. Not now that I know what I know.”

 

As he spoke, memories of Tonks wracked him: being alone with her, bare skin to bare skin, kissing the hot sweat from her neck as he moved inside her, plunging deep; it all combined with the vision of her broken body and Remus felt faint with nausea. 

 

“Just be with her, mate! Surrender. The cat’s out of the bag now that Professor Grease has found out anyway, so let it happen. Embrace it. She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions - and she’s choosing you. Do the same…choose her! It’s what you want, you just have to be brave enough - ”

 

“It isn’t brave to allow my own desires to ruin her life. I won’t subject her to the pain that my condition would bring someone that close to me.”

 

“But you’ll subject her to the pain of getting rejected?” 

 

“Tonks is strong. She’ll be fine. When the initial hurt fades, it won’t take her long to feel thankful that her ill-advised infatuation didn’t cause any lasting damage. Her job as an Auror, her friendships, her relationship with her parents, her place in society…she’ll be able to keep all those things stable and intact. She’ll have an amazing life. A normal life.”

 

“Tonks said goodbye to a normal life as soon as she joined us in the Order of the Phoenix. You really think it’s her dream to live the status quo? You know her better than that.”

 

Remus said nothing. Sirius’ eyes narrowed.

 

“You’re not seriously going to do this?”

 

“I am. I should have done so last night, but I was too weak. I won’t fail again - the next time I see her, I will tell her. You’ll make sure the mission rota keeps us separated. I’ll move out of Headquarters if needs be. I’ve been too passive for too long, but I can make this choice. This…whatever madness this has been…will end.”

 

“Don’t be stupid. I’m not exaggerating when I say that you’ll regret this for the rest of your life.”

 

“I’ll never regret letting Tonks be free to live the life she deserves. We’re at war. The rest of my life might not be such a very long time.”

 

“All the more reason to go for it! Think of Prongs. What would he say if he knew you were going to chicken out? He was always the true romantic out of all of us. He’d never let you do something this bloody idiotic.” 

 

The unexpected invocation of James knocked the air out of Remus. 

 

“James always saw too much good in his friends,” he said quietly.

 

“What about Lily?” Sirius demanded, unrelenting, though Remus knew the rejoinder had hurt him. “She’d be raging if she knew that a pink-haired Auror with great music taste who doesn’t take crap from anyone wanted to be with you and you turned her down.” 

 

“Just stop, Sirius - ”

 

“They’re not here, so it falls to me to give it to you straight,” said Sirius, raising his voice. “You’re in love with Tonks.”

 

It was like Sirius had rammed a fist into Remus’ chest and torn the words right out of him. It was too much. 

 

“It’s ending!” Remus found himself shouting. “There’s nothing you can say or do to change my mind. This is my life! This is Tonks’ life! Not some…. _pet project_ to keep you entertained!” 

 

Any trace of a smile died on Sirius’ face.

 

“Oh yeah, it’s great fun for me watching you fuck everything up. Some light finally enters your miserable life but you’d rather be a martyr instead. Tonks is a fucking saint - having a boyfriend who turns into a bloodthirsty beast every full moon is one thing, dealing with your endless self pity is quite another!” 

 

Sirius walked right up to Remus so their faces were close.

 

“You walk around like no one could ever conceive of suffering like yours, but don’t you know I would trade places with you in a heartbeat? I’d take that bite of yours if it meant I could be free again.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying. This isn’t freedom. It’s a curse.”

 

“Poor old Moony - having to spend one night of every month locked up. Meanwhile, this glorified cell holds me seven days a week. I’m built to fight! I want to be out there: cursing the blood out of anyone who’s ever harmed Harry, pulling Voldemort’s schemes apart, finding Wormtail and ripping his worthless head off! It’s only because Harry needs me alive and close enough to watch over him that I keep myself stuck in this place: fixing the mission schedules, cooking meals, talking to you about your sodding love life, waiting for Dumbledore to _deign_ to agree to a plan to prove my innocence and get me out of here!” 

 

“You will be free one day.” 

 

“So you keep saying. But when? When exactly will I be free? It’s not like you’ve done much to help me break the deadlock.”

 

“Because this is the safest place for you and I will never support any plan that might risk your return to Azkaban. I’m not allowing you to be incarcerated again, nor will I lose you to a dementor. I know it’s wearing you down, but we have to trust Dumbledore and if he - ”

 

“Sometimes I think that if Dumbledore asked you to drown yourself in the Great Lake, you’d do it. Calmly. No questions asked. The truth is that you haven’t even considered any alternative, any other way of getting me out of here, besides ‘Dumbledore knows best’, have you? You’ve never even raised the issue with him, despite the fact that you’ve spent practically a whole year watching boredom grind me into an early grave.”

 

“No, I haven’t but - ”

 

“No. You haven’t,” Sirius repeated. “Too busy wallowing in your own problems. Too busy fucking my cousin and breaking her heart.”

 

Remus felt so tired. His temples pounded with shame. With his back to the wall, he slid down to sit on the floor. 

 

“Forgive me, Sirius,” he said. “But this is how it needs to be. All of it.”

 

Sirius stared down at him, eyes a little wild. Remus expected him to walk away. Or to start screaming. Or to seize him and fling him across the room like he did Kreacher. But he didn’t. Silently, Sirius sat down next to him so they were shoulder-to-shoulder. Remus let out a breath. Two old dogs - that’s what Sirius had called the two of them almost one year ago. What were they now? 

 

“I don’t need to forgive you,” he said eventually, his voice gruff. “You’re the only brother I’ve got left.” 

 

The small bathroom rang with silence. Remus felt the warmth of Sirius’ body beside him; the solidity of it as they leant against one another. Sirius rolled his head against the wall to look at Remus. 

 

“Maybe you’re right though. Tonks does deserve better. Just not for the reasons you think.”

 

Remus felt cold. There was nothing else left to say. He couldn’t force Sirius and Tonks to understand. He didn’t need their blessing to do what was right. To be a werewolf was to be alone. Why was he so prone to forgetting that? 

 

“What’s that?” Sirius asked suddenly, sitting up. 

 

He transformed into his dog form, ears pricked and sleek skull cocked, listening. There was a distant banging and the sound of voices far below.

 

“There’s someone downstairs,” said Remus, getting to his feet. 

 

Sirius bounded away on four legs, barrelling down the stairs with Remus following.

 

“There you are!”

 

Remus felt a burst of thankfulness: it was Tonks, unharmed, with life coursing through her and the spikes of her hair waving, not a single smear of blood on her skin. But she, and Kingsley beside her in the hallway, looked tense. Something was wrong. 

 

“What is it? What’s happened?” 

 

“We tried to re-enter the Ministry for our guard shift, but the entrance portal was blocked. There’s no way in to the Ministry tonight,” said Kingsley.

 

“You’re sure?” Asked Sirius, back in his human form. 

 

“Certain. We tried the Auror entrance, the visitor entrance, everything. It could be a ploy, or even just a magical malfunction, but...something doesn’t feel right to me.”

 

“I’ll send a patronus for Mad Eye,” said Tonks, pulling out her wand. “The four of us should be able to figure out what the hell’s going on and break through the barrier if we combine efforts.”

 

Tonks squeezed past them down the crowded corridor for a better aim. Remus and Sirius turned back to Kingsley.

 

“The Death Eaters could have gained access somehow, lain in wait for the Ministry workers to leave and then blocked the access points,” said Sirius.

 

“It’s possible and, if so, the situation is grave,” said Kingsley. “It would mean that the entire Ministry security set-up has been compromised and all the protective jinxes are down. We’ve all suspected for a while now that the Death Eaters have been building up to something. This could be it.”

 

“We need to move quickly,” said Remus, pulling out his wand. 

 

Tonks returned to the cluster, looking rattled.

 

“What is it?” asked Kingsley. 

 

“Nothing, er…nothing,” said Tonks. 

 

Remus studied her face. Her eyes were wide, almost dreamy, but she soon gathered herself and when she spoke her tone was business-like once more.

 

“Sirius you’ll stand by to call the others if we need back up?”

 

Sirius gave a quick nod.

 

“Time to go,” growled a voice from behind them: Mad Eye had arrived. “Keep your wits. If we are about to interrupt a precious plan, it’ll be killing curses coming our way. Or worse. If anyone falls -“ 

 

A crack and a sixth person appeared in the narrow corridor. 

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Said Sirius. 

 

Snape, if surprised to see them all gathered with grim faces and wands raised to apparate, didn’t show it. He spoke directly to Sirius.  

 

“I have reason to believe that Harry Potter may be in danger.”


	23. Wounds, Part 2

**Chapter 22: Wounds, Part 2**

 

Sirius patted his robes, hands roving through the pockets, until he pulled out a tarnished, bronze-edged mirror and held it close to his face.

 

“Harry! Harry! Are you there?” 

 

“How can Harry be in danger? What has happened?” Asked Remus, looking bloodless and raising his voice to be heard above Sirius’ calls to his godson. 

 

“I was summoned to the Headmistress’ office. Potter had tried and, I can only presume, failed to use Professor Umbridge’s fireplace. She, assisted by her so-called Inquisitorial Squad, held Potter, Granger, both Weasleys, Longbottom and Lovegood. She demanded I fetch her a vial of veritaserum. On refusing, I went to take my leave - at which point Potter informed me that ‘he’s got Padfoot’ - ” Snape spoke the name as if being forced to pronounce a particularly undignified swear word, “ - ‘he’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden.’”

 

Sirius looked from Snape back down to the mirror. 

 

“Harry!” 

 

He rubbed at the glass, staring down into it as if wanting to tumble inside. It was the first time Tonks had seen fear on Sirius’ face.  

 

“If that’s true and Harry believes I’ve been captured, why wouldn’t he have tried to contact me? I’ve had this on me all day!” Sirius demanded, waving the mirror in his hand. “Why the hell should we trust you?” 

 

“You have no option but to trust me,” said Snape, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Whatever that item is that you’re howling into, I wouldn’t rely on Potter’s memory of it. The boy and his companions are no longer at the castle. Given what you’ve heard, where do you suppose they are? It would hardly be out of character for Potter to lead his loyal followers into danger under delusions of heroism. I will return to the school and search the forest - it is possible that Potter has simply been waylaid whilst trying to shed the Headmistress - but in the meantime, you must alert whoever is on guard duty tonight at the Ministry.”

 

“There is no one on guard duty,” said Kingsley. “Every entrance was blocked to Tonks and I.”

 

Everyone in the corridor seemed to freeze as full realisation, like a breaking storm, fell on them all at once. Harry had been lured to the Department of Mysteries. And the Department of Mysteries was unprotected.

 

“A trap,” Remus breathed.

 

“And Potter could be walking right into it,” said Mad Eye. 

 

“We’re getting him out of there. Right now,” said Sirius, pulling out his wand. 

 

“I’ll alert Dumbledore and tell him to come to Headquarters immediately,” said Snape, his voice no longer silky smooth but clipped and rapid. “Black, you should wait for him here. Tell him what has happened.”

 

“Fuck off, I’m not your messenger boy. My godson needs me.”

 

“Stay behind for Dumbledore. Don’t be a fool,” said Snape.

 

“I don’t take orders from you, Snape,” said Sirius through bared teeth, squaring his shoulders. “I’m going to the Ministry and if I find out that this deception could have been prevented by occlumency, you better pray you’re a thousand miles away from the end of my wand.”

 

Mad Eye, Remus and Kingsley all began to speak at once, a cacophony of voices that bounced off the dark wood panels of the narrow corridor, but Sirius drowned them all out,

 

“KREACHER!”

 

Veiny eyes and a fleshy, snout-like nose appeared around the library door. Sirius crouched down and seized Kreacher by the filthy cloth around his hips, pulling him before them. 

 

“Wait here for Dumbledore. Tell him that we’re going to the Department of Mysteries and tell him why - I know you’ve been creeping back there listening.”

 

“As master wishes,” Kreacher croaked.  

 

Sirius stepped over the elf. Tonks opened her mouth, but no words came out: her heart was racing and her head couldn’t pick a side. If she was in Sirius’ shoes, she’d do exactly the same thing: stop at nothing to get somebody she loved out of harm’s way. But surely letting the most wanted man in the country, the Ministry scapegoat whose very soul was forfeit, head straight into the belly of the beast was utterly crazy?

 

It was Remus who stepped in front of Sirius and placed a hand on his chest.

 

“Severus is right, Sirius. You need to stay here,” he said. “All it would take is a single dementor, or one stray Auror, to strike whilst we were distracted with duelling and you wouldn’t live to protect Harry another day.”

 

Sirius whacked Remus’ arm off him with the back of his hand. He drew himself up to his full height, eyes hard and black beneath his heavy brow, and there was a hot smell of burning from the sparks spitting out from his wand. 

 

“Don’t think I won’t take on anyone who tries to keep me from protecting my godson,” he snarled, looking at each of them in turn, before fixing on Remus again. “Even you Moony.”

 

Remus looked pained, but said nothing: he knew, as they all did, that nothing more could be said. Energy seemed to ripple off Sirius’ body. The candles around him were flickering. He was coming with them. 

 

“Enough melodrama!” Said Moody. “We apparate now to the Ministry. Visitor’s entrance.”

 

Tonks turned on the spot: faces, portraits, candlelight all blurring, matching the thoughts that were moving too fast to process around her brain. In the second before vanishing, she found Remus’ wrist and squeezed it: bringing him with her for one tiny, stolen moment. He looked at her and it was with the same agony with which he had entreated Sirius to stay, the same powerlessness. She stared back as best she could when every inch of their bodies was being buffeted and compressed, wanting with one look to tell him that he couldn’t stop her either, but that everything was going to be okay: whatever they were facing, they would face it together, they would get the kids to safety. Tonks couldn’t conceive of any other outcome. She knew they could do it. 

 

A blink and they were out in the muggy evening air at the corner of Great Scotland Yard. Two muggles dropped the cigarettes they’d been smoking and broke away from the white stone building they’d been leaning against in shock. Once a pair of confundus charms had sent them meandering out of sight, Kingsley, wand arm sweeping in a graceful circle above his head, wrapped the Order members and the red telephone box in a disillusionment bubble. 

 

“They’ll expect Potter through this entrance, that’s my reckoning,” said Mad Eye, stomping forward to inspect it.  

 

“Even if this entrance has been manipulated to bar the way to anyone but Harry, the fact that it has been charmed to receive him at least means it has some weakness. It may be easier to break than the others,” said Remus.

 

“So let’s break it,” said Sirius, impatiently watching Mad Eye as he tapped every inch of the telephone box with his wand to check for curses. 

 

“Alright,” Mad Eye said at last, turning to face the four of them. “I want you all spread out in formation. You’ll need space enough to evade any nasty surprises they might have left us. Give it every unlocking, undoing spell you can think of. _Finite incantatem_. Anything - as long as you keep firing it. And be ready to defend yourselves. Something tells me this box is going to light up and start vomiting out death at the first sign of attack. If one of us falls, you better not stop because you can be damn sure that it won’t.”

 

Tonks locked her jaw. Adrenaline surged down her spine like rushing water, circulating into each fingertip and down to her heels as she locked her feet into a firm position. This was just like an exercise they used to do in Auror agility training. Though her worry for Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and their friends grew, she couldn’t deny that it felt good to be following Mad Eye - the only commander she’d ever had who could flip her natural aversion to authority into instant respect - out in the field again. Mad Eye opened the door and let it drift on its hinges, leaving the battered black phone and its dialler exposed, before taking his place in their fan-shaped formation. Kingsley shot five blasts from his wand at the faded plastic numbers - six, two, four, four, two. 

 

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

 

The explosion of magic that followed shook Tonks’ eardrums. Five jets of light went streaming towards the phone, followed by more, and more still: layers of de-jinxing spells that crawled in ever-thickening veins across the inside and outside of the telephone box. But it wasn’t long before the visitor’s entrance started to fight back: Tonks felt heat on her face as liquid, molten fire came bleeding out from beneath the dialler, reducing it to black mulch, and stiffening into a targeted stream. The flaming river came for them but they were too fast; the five of them sending cooling shields before it could touch them. Next came green darts that burst through the slug of lava, each one giving off a foul, rotting stench; sending the five Order members twisting and dodging out of the line of fire, before their retaliatory defensive spells found their marks and each of the darts fell to the pavement, useless. The box kept spitting out jinxes like fireworks, but Tonks felt her mind lock into a concentrated flow, her Auror robes swaying around her as she moved. Her instinctually selected counters, and those of her comrades, hit their targets again and again. By the end, the telephone box was barely recognisable: smoking and charred, subsumed in the ash-like detritus of extinguished dark magic. 

 

“That the best they can do?” Asked Sirius, pushing his hair out of his eyes, hardly even panting.

 

Mad Eye held out his arms, stopping the rest of them from investigating, his electric blue eye scanning the wreckage, his wand once more tapping for hidden dangers before sweeping it all clean, leaving only a black shell and its square, concrete base.

 

“Looks like we’ve killed every last shred of magic dead. We’ll have to send it down to the atrium ourselves. One of you come down with me, the rest keep watch. If we don’t send it back, you know what that means.”

 

Sirius rushed ahead, but Mad Eye raised a slightly clawed hand. 

 

“Not you, Black. We don’t know how deep this deception goes. There’s no knowing whether a cabal of Ministry staff is waiting down there, ’specially for us. Shacklebolt - you’re best placed to talk us out of any sticky situations.” 

 

Kingsley came forward to join Mad Eye, who pointed his wand first at each side to conjure new glass walls and then down at the floor. With a judder and an ominous scraping noise, the blackened shell began to sink out of sight. Sirius whirled back around, looking from Tonks to Remus, jaw and neck muscles tense, rolling his shoulders, fingers going white around his wand. Remus stood, pale and still. Tonks stamped her feet, biting the inside of her cheek. What was happening down there? 

 

“You should have known you couldn’t have convinced me to stay, mate,” said Sirius, breaking their uneasy silence after several long minutes.

 

“Can’t blame me for trying.” 

 

Remus’ attempt at a smile as he looked at Sirius was the saddest smile Tonks had ever seen. A crunching noise made their necks swivel round: the remains of the telephone box had returned. They sprinted towards it and crammed themselves inside. Sirius pointed his wand at the floor. 

 

“Don’t!” Said Tonks, looking up at him from where she stood wedged beneath his shoulder. “I know we’ve probably blasted every bit of magic out of this thing, but your wand’s registered. I don’t want to risk it. I can do it instead. _Locomotor_.” 

 

A tremor beneath their feet was followed by a long rumble before they finally began to descend. The street swallowed them up bit by bit until the ground was above their heads and darkness fell inside the tiny compartment. The only sounds were Tonks’ whispers to maintain their stilted motion and the disconcerting raking noise of metal against dirt. When Remus lit his wand, Tonks saw tiny crumbs of earth filtering into the lift from one of the corners at the base. Her spell was strong, but the thing didn’t want to move: Tonks had to visualise the shape of the tunnel they were in, squeezing the box down though the ground itself seemed to hug it ever tighter. Sirius slammed a clenched fist against the warped glass and the whole structure shuddered.

 

“Can’t we go any faster?”

 

“I’m trying, mate,” said Tonks. 

 

Sweat gleamed on Sirius’ forehead. Tonks chewed her lip, unsure how to placate him. His agitation was contagious. Mad Eye always used to warn her as a trainee that imbalances of emotion in duels led to carelessness and carelessness led to your limp body hitting the floor. Sirius, so recently freed, had found himself in a cage again. 

 

“If we get stuck in here…” he started. 

 

“Tonks knows what she’s doing,” said Remus, softly. 

 

Despite everything, Tonks still felt the ghost of a separate pain. Dora. It was meant to be Dora.

 

“If anyone has harmed Harry, I swear - ”

 

Remus placed his hands on Sirius’ shoulders. Their faces were close. 

 

“Padfoot, listen to me,” he said, his voice a tender, low timbre that Tonks knew well from innumerable quiet conversations on pillows. “We’re going to get them all out. Harry will be back safe and sleeping in his bed at Hogwarts by the time the sun rises. No one is going to harm Lily and James’ son whilst we still have breath in our lungs.”

 

Tonks glanced up from her wand to watch the two of them, feeling oddly as if she was intruding. A light was returning to Sirius’ eyes, determination replacing the wildness, a fierce calm coming upon him. 

 

“We won’t stop fighting until he’s safe,” he said, gripping the arms that Remus had placed on his shoulders tight. “Tonight and every night to come if that’s what it takes.”

 

“I’ll be right beside you,” said Remus.

 

Sirius pulled him into a rough hug. Tonks, looking sideways at her lover and her kin, felt her nerves give way to a swell of feeling that was hard to define: like the bubbling up of joyous laughter crossed with an urge to sob.

 

“The bastards are going to wish they’d never messed with Harry Potter,” she said.

 

Sirius broke apart from Remus and slapped her on the back. But when Tonks looked at Remus, she saw in the low glow from his wand that his expression was grim, belying the words of hope he had just spoken. He wished neither she nor Sirius were there at all, she could see it in his face. He stared back at Tonks with something close to yearning, on the brink of speech, but that was when her wand finally succeeded in guiding them to a clunk of impact. 

 

“Bingo!” She cried.

 

Sirius kicked open the door and all three ran flat out across the smooth-floored, deserted expanse of the atrium. Tonks performed her signature charm, making their legs blur beneath them, and Sirius crowed with triumph at the speed. They ran through the fire-less halls, Tonks in the middle hearing Remus and Sirius’ heavy breathing on either side of her, without meeting a single watch-wizard. They dived into a lift and began a clanking, jerky journey to the ninth floor. One final pelting sprint down a corridor and they were inside the familiarly strange circular room of the Department of Mysteries, with its stone floor like black liquid and its spinning wheel of doors. 

 

“How the hell do we - ?” Sirius began. 

 

But Tonks and Remus knew the route to their past year’s worth of guard duty shifts like they knew the curves and grains of their own wands and they pressed on to the right door, Sirius following. In the cold Hall of Prophecies, Tonks slammed immediately into Kingsley’s back, banging her nose against his cloak. Blinking, she peered around his tall frame - which seemed oddly frozen - and gasped.

 

“What happened?” She said, the magnitude of what she was looking at scarcely sinking in. “Crikey, that’s...isn’t that...?”

 

“Every prophecy ever made,” intoned Kingsley. “Smashed.”

 

As far as the eye could see, the gargantuan hall was strewn with smashed glass. The orbs had been reduced to powder, crushed into dust and the great shelves were splintered, wood leaning at odd, jagged angles across what had once been the aisles. All the unspeaking voices had been spent, their stories lost to the air. 

 

“ _Homenum revelio_ ,” said Sirius. 

 

The spell swept like wind over desert across the dark wreckage. There was no one there.

 

“We’ll try another room,” said Mad Eye. “Looks like Potter and friends put up a fight.”

 

They returned to the spinning circle of doors, now directionless. Sirius surged forward, choosing one at random. Inside, Tonks’ boots crunched again on broken glass - she looked down and this time it was the warped, bent remnants of timeturners under her feet. Again, she struggled to take in the repercussions, the scale of what they were witnessing. But she couldn’t think about it now: they had to keep moving. The group stumbled backwards, treading on feet, before returning to the central circle once more. They stood back to back, their wands pointed out from their bodies, surrounded by their choices. Tonks stared around wildly until she saw it: there was one door, though identical to the rest, that seemed to stand out. She careened towards it: it was the one, she was certain. She tugged on the handle, but it wouldn’t yield. She pulled harder, leaning her whole body weight back to try and ease it open.  
 

_Here. In here_. 

 

She began to mutter an incantation, but a gentle hand closed over her wand arm, pulling her away.

 

“No!” She wrenched her wrist back. “It’s in here!” 

 

“It won’t open, Tonks,” said Remus. “Please come - we mustn’t separate.”

 

Tonks blinked rapidly, shaking her head to clear the strange conviction that had gripped her, and followed Remus at a run to the next door which opened easily. It swung forward to reveal a vast room: like a cavernous, dimly-lit amphitheatre. Scattered across the steps were a few face down bodies of black-cloaked Death Eaters, but Tonks didn’t need to count those who were still standing to know that the Order was far outnumbered. In the centre was a pit in the middle of which stood a stone dais, mounted by an archway which looked as if it was poised to crumble at any moment. There, restrained by two Death Eaters, one with a mask hanging loosely from his chin, was a teenage boy Tonks didn’t recognise; his round face turning up in surprise to the doors that the Order had just entered through. Harry stood before his friend, a pearly white orb sitting in the palm of his hand which was outstretched towards a man whose long, blond hair made him unmistakable.

 

“ _Stupefy!_ ” 

 

Tonks aimed her stunning spell directly between Lucius Malfoy’s shoulder blades, but he turned just in time; throwing himself out of the way. The red jet hit one of the Death Eaters holding the other boy instead. As one of his captors’ legs buckled and the other hesitated under the threat of attack, the boy broke free and dived for cover in the pit with Harry. The Order had the advantage of surprise and the Death Eaters attempted to converge, but clumsily. Tonks stunned another Death Eater who went tumbling legs over head back down the stairs. She heard Mad Eye roar somewhere to her right, and an explosion of sparks took out two more. Sirius leapt down the stairs towards the dais, turning and shooting curses with expert precision, getting closer to Harry. Remus did the same, covering Sirius and knocking out one Death Eater whose mouth was forming the killing curse, and then another who was approaching the two sheltering teenagers. Kingsley held his position on the stairs and commenced a duel against two at once. 

 

Tonks scanned the battlefield: it didn’t take long to find who she was looking for. There on the dais was Bellatrix Lestrange, matted hair flailing as she shrieked and cursed, eyes flashing with deranged anger at the Order’s arrival. Tonks didn’t hesitate. She cast a river of paralysing jinxes her aunt’s way. In one nimble leap, Bellatrix jumped the gap from the dais to the steps, the whites of her eyes rolling. She grinned horribly as, with barely a flick of the wand, she sent Tonks’ own spells back to her, shaped like a net, causing her to duck right down to the floor. Tonks jumped back up immediately, ankle wobbling only a little; she needed to keep Bellatrix low, to keep the advantage she had by being higher up. She grit her teeth: she was at the peak of her training and experience; Bellatrix would be hers, this was her chance. 

 

Wasting no time, she sent everything she could - disarmers, stunners, immobilisers - hurtling down towards Bellatrix; Tonks’ hand and wrist moving as if in a dance, her lips forming commands, feeling the power surge from her wand. But black smoke rose up around Bellatrix, curling into a dark cloud and swallowing the jets of multicoloured light. The smoke crawled up the stairs towards her and Tonks tried to blast it away, before immediately diving to one side as three green killing curses flew like arrows out from its murky depths. The cloud dispersed and Bellatrix emerged, with a cackle in the back of her throat.

 

“Do you know what I do to Aurors, little rabbit?”

 

“I know what you _did_ ,” said Tonks, still on her feet, chin raised in defiance. “Time’s up for your twisted fuckery. You’ll be back on the boat to Azkaban before this night’s through. I’m gonna put you there myself.”

 

“Azkaban doesn’t mean anything anymore, idiot girl. The Ministry is nothing. The Aurors are nothing. The Order of the Phoenix is nothing. The Dark Lord ascends!” Bellatrix’s eyes gleamed. “And I am his most trusted, _most beloved_ companion. You’re a fool if you believe you can defeat me.” 

 

“Well, I’ve done it once before. Don’t you remember?

 

Bellatrix cocked her head to one side. Tonks sent her dodging a series of stunners and took the opportunity to morph herself the dirty blond hair, the longer nose, the distinctive scar, from the night in the tunnel before morphing back again. 

 

“You may be able to change your face, but you can’t change your _blood_ , girl. And yours is weak, thin, tainted. I know.”

 

Something with a razor-like edge grazed Tonks’ shoulder, tearing her robe. 

 

“If I spill your blood, out pours the shame,” said Bellatrix, taking a step higher.

 

“Shame’s not really my thing,” said Tonks, hopping backwards up one step too, then aiming yet more curses down. “You know, they say metamorphmagi spring from remarkable unions. You’re not a fan of remarkable unions though are you?”

 

Bellatrix stalked back and forward, twisting erratically, wand parrying Tonks’ spells, but no longer flicking death curses. She watched Tonks with new attention, with a stare that was almost feverish, taking in every detail of her appearance.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Well, my Nana ran a fruit stall on Petticoat Lane…”

 

Tonks feinted left, then fired a stunner to the right. Blocked. 

 

“…my dad grew up playing footie instead of Quidditch…”

 

Tonks bounced a stunner at blinding speed from the floor, to the vaulted ceiling, down to Bellatrix. Blocked again. 

 

“…and my mum ran away from home to marry him. Left her Black family jewels at the door.”

 

Bellatrix’s eyes widened in disbelief, then something fell into place, sudden as the slice of a guillotine, and she delivered a throat-rending, close to inhuman, howl of rage.

 

“I’ll send your HEAD to the traitor I once called sister when I’ve STOPPED YOUR HEART!” 

 

Instead of the green light of the killing curse, Bellatrix sent something else. It passed Tonks’ head, fluttering her hair; a ball of black tendrils, cold as ice and smelling of scorched metal. Tonks’ heel slipped on the edge of the next step up and she juddered down a couple, her heart whooshing into her throat. For the first time, she noticed the veil in the centre of the archway: it rippled, light winking through its cracks, though no one stirred it. She forced herself back: more black shapes were heading her way. She could do this, Tonks told herself. But Bellatrix was wild now: moving with a speed and fury previously unimaginable. Tonks had no time to attack, she could only dodge; the few counter jinxes she was able to send barely making a dent in the demonic masses, each as large as galleons, hurtling towards her. Bellatrix was faster and wilier, her magic more potent, than when Tonks had duelled her before - she had been fresh from Azkaban then. _You were lucky_ , was what Remus had said. How lucky was she feeling tonight? 

 

Tonks was out of breath; the cavernous room felt hot, the booms and shouts of duelling deafening.  She just needed a second to gather herself, just a second to regroup, just a second to come up with a better counter, but the attacks wouldn’t slow, they kept coming faster and faster, all the while in her ears - and echoing around in her brain - was Bellatrix’s voice, 

 

“It will be a slow death - blood traitor scum!”

 

It hit Tonks just below the sternum. A perfect shot. It didn’t knock her backwards; the impact was swallowed up by her own body and Tonks’ feet left the floor, sending her keeling forward in an arch. Her legs flew out from under her and for a moment, not knowing if she was dead or alive, pain like she’d never known blossomed between her ribs. There was an explosion of high, cackling laughter and words she could hear only vaguely, as if from a great distance.

 

“No more polluting my family tree, blood traitor brat!”

 

She soared down, the steps coming closer in nightmarish slow-motion, and there was a tearing sensation deep inside her. Tendrils of dark magic were spreading from the point of impact and surging through her veins, ripping hidden flesh. Then there was a crack as her head hit the first of the stone stairs, so loud it made her ears ring. Her eyes rolled up inside her head, there were flashes like lightning, and blood dripped hot down her temple. Her body flopped from one step to another, gathering speed, and all she could see was a spinning blur of colour: a scene of battle; a whirl of pink; a step rising to meet her; an archway with a flowing veil.

 

Then her vision went. And all was pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3 xxx


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